"Ah!" she screamed, seeing the uplifted weapon in Sheppard's hand, "don't hurt Thames—don't, dear Jack! If you want to kill somebody, kill me, not him. At last she glanced at a little clock in the corner of the room, and sprang to her feet. She had time in the afternoons to do crewelwork and embroidery, no longer occupied by the constant spinning of wool. I won't dig their graves with my nails. And now, my love," she added, with a relenting look, "I'm content to make up our quarrel.
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