Sheppard let fall her basket. London Bridge had suffered a degree less than most places. Swiftly following the sound of knocking, she crossed right and passed through a door near the windows—and found herself in the bookroom. I have seen many of them. So, after the dinner was over, Spurlock took her home; and worked far into the night. She saw herself building up a life upon that —a life restrained, kindly, beautiful, a little pathetic and altogether dignified; a life of great disciplines and suppressions and extensive reserves. There was a hint of tears in her voice. But you must promise me not to go near that abandoned hussy at Willesden.
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