"Don't scourge me," she cried, trying to hide herself in the farthest corner of the cell. So, one day, because God was wroth, her mother ran away with a blackguard, and died in the gutter, miserably. Sheppard uttered a piercing scream. The more her thoughts dwelt upon the subject, the more convinced she was that she could not go to any one for help; she would have to solve the riddle by her own efforts, by some future experience. He felt he had raised a storm which it would be very difficult, if not impossible, to allay. ‘How much does he know?’ Without waiting for a reply, she turned narrowed eyes on Gerald.
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