“I won’t give you a check though—Yes, I will. 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. There sprang from that a vague hope that perhaps she might extort a capitulation from her father by a threat to seek that position, and then with overwhelming clearness it came to her that whatever happened she would never be able to tell her father about her debt. It probably had its own repulsive oubliette in the bottom, where tiny princesses could fall and break their necks. It seemed intolerable that she should go home and admit herself beaten.
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