“It is part of the irony of life,” he said. Sheppard, with a laugh that cut the ears of those who listened to it like a razor,—"Do not despair! And who or what shall give me comfort when my son is gone? I have wept till my eyes are dry,—suffered till my heart is broken,—prayed till the voice of prayer is dumb,—and all of no avail. Every other wall comprised bookcases, except where the doors appeared. Gerald would certainly have demanded back his sword. So get up, and let's be off. For a moment, Kneebone had hesitated about giving the signal to Shotbolt, but, thinking a more favourable opportunity might occur, he determined not to hazard matters by undue precipitation. In some incomprehensible way that back view made her feel sorry for Alice.
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