CHAPTER XI. We meant to make it dinner and a theatre, but you were not home. “I’ll ruin your suit. Sheppard, horror-stricken. Spurling, drily. ’ As a matter of fact, I am not. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. "Well, I'm sure Winifred could never have loved you as well as I do," said Mrs.
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