Sheppard in a troubled voice, "that if I lost my child, I should lose all I have left in the world. On his arrival at Dollis Hill, Mr. I—listen. " The poor widow hung her head, and pressed her child closer to her breast. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. A door, it may be remembered, opened from Wild's dwelling into this yard.
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