As he proceeded, other painful reminiscences were aroused. "Good-b'ye!" And with a cordial shake of the hand he took his departure. "Heaven be praised, I am not the son of a nobleman. Sheppard. Things happen to women—proper women—and all they have to do is to take them well. I don’t know. The more her thoughts dwelt upon the subject, the more convinced she was that she could not go to any one for help; she would have to solve the riddle by her own efforts, by some future experience. Goodbye.
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