Sheppard trembled violently; and though she understood his meaning too well, she answered,—"I can't guess. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. ‘You said?’ ‘Mrs Sindlesham, your great-aunt, miss. A glance sufficed to show the young man how matters stood. “Want to see my fangs?” She asked. CHAPTER V. I’d rather starve!” For a moment the conversation hung upon that declaration. "How goes it?" he began, heartily.
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