It was not possible. Sheppard raised her hand, and the malediction trembled upon her tongue. "Hear me out," said Jonathan. "Mother—dear mother! Once again, I beseech you to listen to me. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. Sheppard!" sighed Winifred, as she contemplated the beautiful wreck before her,—"Poor Mrs.
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