"Now, Jack," cried Thames, warmly grasping Sheppard's hand, "you are my friend again. Her parents have more money than God. Anna watched her from the windows, watched the carriage jolt away along the cobbled street and disappear. Through no fault of her own. ‘Where the devil have you been?’ ‘Consorting with a nun in the gardens. And it’s like the petals falling from a flower. Are you going to write a novel?” “Not I,” she answered gaily.
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