"Now, give me the woollen cloth to tie round my fetters," whispered Sheppard. ’ His brows rose. So was I, in fact. He had conveyed it to her, not verbally, but by means of a letter, which seemed to her a singularly ignoble method of prohibition. Who was he to tread on her dreams? She had heroworshipped an unscrupulous adventurer, who had not hesitated to impose on her youth and her ignorance. You may have something to conceal, you may not.
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