It was like pouring a strong acid over dulled metal. "I am no man's mistress," answered the widow, crimsoning to her temples, but preserving her meek deportment, and humble tone. Sheppard, smiling through her tears. ‘One would take it that the house had been ransacked. For in life there is but one hour: an epic or an idyll: all other hours lead up to and down from it. .
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