Sheppard!" sighed Winifred, as she contemplated the beautiful wreck before her,—"Poor Mrs. "I don't know how it is," he added in a low voice to Thames, as they were left alone, "but I've a strange foreboding of ill. Nothing like the direct approach, she thought. It was the blood she found that cemented her decision that her foster daughter was a criminal. “What is the good of pretending?” she said. He did not even reply to her for several minutes.
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