He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. Thank him, not me, man. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. Sheppard: "nothing can save me. "Oh! nothing at all," answered Jack, sneeringly, "though this room's as much mine as yours, for that matter. Save us!" he cried, as his glance accidentally alighted on the drawing, which Winifred had dropped in her agitation.
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