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. “It is the first moment we have let him out of our sight,” Brendon exclaimed, as he hastened across the street. Gossip was the driving force in Sheila’s existence. This formality irked her: she wanted to play a little, romp. No more did she offer her forehead for the good-night kiss.
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