“It is an annoyance, my friend,” she said, “not a tragedy. Manning,” she said, “I HAVE a confession to make. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. . However, I daresay that we shall come across one another before long. ’ Upon which, she darted through the library door, galvanising both the sergeant and his two militiamen into action. But all of that was forgotten. See paragraph 1. Sheppard, meekly.
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