" "No doubt," he replied. Sometimes—a lonely forlorn child—she had gone to him and put her arms around his neck. Sheppard, smiling through her tears. Then, in a few years, he and Ruth might fare forth in comfort and security. These were less like streets than labyrinths, hewn through an eternal twilight. “Was I that bad?” He asked. And as he gave back the portfolio to Sir Rowland he contrived, unobserved, to slip the precious document into his sleeve, and from thence into his pocket.
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