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Raymond Plote would only be missed by his mother. And now for the fawney— the ring I mean. Sheppard, with a laugh that cut the ears of those who listened to it like a razor,—"Do not despair! And who or what shall give me comfort when my son is gone? I have wept till my eyes are dry,—suffered till my heart is broken,—prayed till the voice of prayer is dumb,—and all of no avail. " "You are mocking me, Rowland. She goes out and comes home. I have but to give a hint of that boy's existence in the proper quarter, and his life will not be worth a day's purchase. He had taken it back.

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