"I knew how it would be," she cried, in the shrill voice peculiar to a shrew, "when you brought that worthless hussy's worthless brat into the house. She trailed him to his apartment and a black door that read 727 in solemn gold-tone lettering. But I wanted to find out more, partly so I could share it with him. " "Thank'ee, Sir," grinned Sheppard. You will obey me out of common decency. " Ideas are never born; they are suggested; they are planted seeds.
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