Sheppard," cried the carpenter's wife bitterly; "and, I repeat, Bedlam's too good for her. " "Mr. She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. ’ ‘Dieu du ciel! But this is catastrophe. Somebody ought to talk to him, warn him. He had set out to win her, and she had let him start.
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