Sheppard, with a laugh that cut the ears of those who listened to it like a razor,—"Do not despair! And who or what shall give me comfort when my son is gone? I have wept till my eyes are dry,—suffered till my heart is broken,—prayed till the voice of prayer is dumb,—and all of no avail. Knives were worse, especially when you were stabbed back and left traces of your own blood at the crime scene. Lucy felt the hairs on her neck rise. It's only a gentleman come to offer you his hand. ” “Nor I,” said Ann Veronica. "I won't trouble you further, Jack," he remarked.
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