They proved all sorts of things perhaps, but they were thick, unequal, pitiful pieces of work. Sheppard, as a storm of furious voices resounded from below, and torches were seen mounting the stairs; "they are coming!—they are coming!—fly!—to the roof! to the roof. Part of her even believed that her mother would have wanted her to stop feeling guilty and to be happy. Only I wish—I wish to-day I was a thousand times, ten thousand times more beautiful.
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