Edgeworth Bess, who passed for Sheppard's wife, was secured. He found that the skiff had been dashed against one of the buttresses of the bridge. He looked like an animated skeleton that someone had hung a smelly 105 brown beard upon. At the back of the house, on a bank, rose an old-fashioned terrace-garden, full of apple-trees and other fruittrees in blossom, and lively with the delicious verdure of early spring. ‘I—I mean, she were—’ ‘Pretty as a picture?’ suggested Gerald.
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