Sheppard, struggling to get free. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. She contrived to break down the barriers of shyness at last in one direction, and talked one night of love and the facts of love with Miss Miniver. But there was something else; and in his befogged mental state the comparison eluded him. "Good-b'ye, Jack," said Figg, putting on his hat.
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