"I was," answered Sheppard. ‘Odd sort of a nun. A light was visible in the garret, feebly struggling through the damp atmosphere, for the night was raw and overcast. “Heavens!” she exclaimed. " "As you will," said Jonathan, seating himself. I wonder what men would say if we threw the mask aside—if we really told them what WE thought of them, really showed them what WE were. ‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. And the age gets higher.
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