Sheppard. Drummond nodded. The uproar was tremendous—men yelling— dogs barking,—but above all was heard the stentorian voice of Jonathan, urging them on. There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. Manning, relinquishing his cup without answering her question, “when I hear you talk of earning a living, it’s as if I heard of an archangel going on the Stock Exchange—or Christ selling doves.
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