He felt that he might soon be separated—perhaps, for ever—from the fond little creature he held in his arms, whom he had always regarded with the warmest fraternal affection, and the thought of how much she would suffer from the separation so sensibly affected him, that he could not help joining in her grief. “But your hair,” he gasped. The ambitions of his life, and they were many, seemed to lie far away, broken up dreams in some outside world where the way was rough and the sky always grey. His manner was deferential, even eager. He threw her on the bed. Shortly afterwards,—it seemed an age to the anxious mother,—Mr. It was a purse. After a brief conversation, which Sheppard sustained with his accustomed liveliness, the old man turned to Bess and addressed a few words of common-place gallantry to her. . Sheppard, I'm sure, will say as much for you.
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