“It is a great art,” she said in broken English. She was guided into the dock and prompted by a helpful police inspector. Three more people came to meet them at the door. Sheppard raised her hand, and the malediction trembled upon her tongue. There she would wander about in the kindly darkness. He sat back in an easy chair with a hand upon each of the elbows, and looked steadfastly into the fire.
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