“I was glad you did not send it back again,” he said. What a pig she was. " "To-morrow will be too late," said Sheppard, moodily. He walked on for an hour longer, till he could scarcely drag one leg after another. ‘You said she was beautiful. Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being. ‘What did you do with the portrait then? Not that I suppose it is much use any longer. Her interest grew as she read, a certain distaste disappeared. He moaned.
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