Sheppard, meekly. . All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. CHAPTER XXII. And, in spite of the boy's resistance, he plunged his hands into his pockets, and drew forth the miniature.
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