It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. "I'm surprised you've not asked that question before, Sir Rowland. This helped to restore Ann Veronica’s self-command. Sheppard, averting her face to hide her tears. “Oh good. Earles himself stood upon the threshold of his sanctum, the prototype of the smart natty Jew, with black hair, waxed moustache, and a wired flower in his button-hole. So he shut his eyes.
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