"What's that you're taking to Sir Rowland Trenchard's?" "Only a box, Sir," answered Sheppard, emptying the glass. She felt herself falling, her bile rising in her 61 throat, the cold wind spinning around her like vertigo. . “But your sister?” he asked. So far as the eye could reach, the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty. " Mr. "You are alone?" said one of the spinsters—Prudence Jedson.
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