Sheppard, with a deep sigh, perceiving that her benefactor hesitated to pronounce the word. And there was no intimation whatever that the blinds would ever go up or the windows or doors be opened, or the chandeliers, that seemed to promise such a blaze of fire, unveiled and furnished and lit. "Well, my pretty dears," he added, "—to see your husband, eh? You must make the most of your time. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. ‘What mischief?’ ‘I don’t know, but I’ll go bail you’re at something. “Pray accept my apologies. . . ” “I can’t go back to the Beck’s ever again.
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