‘I know,’ said Prudence Sindlesham, sympathy in her tone. " On the appearance of his visitors, Sheppard arose,—his gyves clanking heavily as he made the movement,—and folding his arms, so far as his manacles would permit him, upon his breast, steadily returned the glances fixed upon him. I’m not discussing Shakespeare. “I’ve been thinking—all the afternoon. It was a precious thing, a beautiful cabochon—do you know what that is?” “What’s a cabochon?” “It’s a precious jewel that doesn’t have facets yet. "That's the whole difficulty.
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