They shall hear of me no more. Sheppard returned no answer. “Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. "Your sister is dead," said he, in a deep whisper. He saw the girl, and sprang up in bed. CHAPTER XXVII His idea, cleverly planned, was to shatter her resistance, to confound her suddenly by striking her mind with words which would rob her coherent thought. He did not pocket it, but sat hefting it lightly from hand to hand, watching the girl thoughtfully. . Do not believe it, Madam.
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