He carried her in his arms up the steps, like a bride on her honeymoon. Sheppard, averting her face to hide her tears. “It spreads like wildfire. I was happy to oblige them, I had grown sick of the heat of the south and all the miserable sun. That she possessed any sense of humour was in itself one of those human miracles which metaphysicians are always pothering over without arriving anywhere; for her previous environment had been particularly humourless.
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