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. I have no right to love you. Sheila plucked it out of Lucy’s hamper with some of Lucy’s panties and brassieres, figuring that she’d help out because she was doing a load of whites anyway. Get it off your soul. "Tom," continued Kneebone, calling to the shop-boy, "don't go home.
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