“It is a hateful story. Nothing is settled upon. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. Section 2. ’ Then he bowed, raising his hat in salute and, crossing to the coach, spoke briefly to its driver and leapt into it without looking back. “I wonder which of us is right,” she said. The doctor walked over to the bed, folded his arms across his chest and stared down into the unabashed eyes of his patient. Sheppard, sinking backwards upon the pallet. All alone; and nobody cared whether he lived or died.
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