“I don’t see why not,” he answered. 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. "Remember the devil!" retorted Terence, who had recovered his natural audacity. It was always jabbing him with white-hot barbs, waking or sleeping. There was a wild light in her eye, and her straight hair was out demonstrating and suffragetting upon some independent notions of its own.
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