Sheppard repressed the scream that rose to her lips, and both mother and son gazed with apprehension at the heavy figure of the thief-taker, which, viewed in the twilight, seemed dilated to twice its natural size, and appeared almost to block up the window. Afterward, one afternoon, he hovered about her, and came and sat beside her and talked of beauty and the riddle of beauty for some time. ‘What are you going to do now, Gerald?’ He sipped his wine and shrugged. He rested his brow on his hand and conveyed magnificent tragedy by his pose. “I am sorry.
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