Who is she, I say?” “My sister!” Annabel faltered. If there is, it’s a mere wrapping—there’s better underneath. "I didn't mean to give offence," replied Sheppard, sulkily. But she did not know what he knew, that it would always be rolling up, enlivened by suggestion, no matter how trifling. "Once there," proceeded Wild, without noticing the interruption, "he's as good as in his grave.
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