But was that enough? Dim, formless suspicions of something more vital wandered about his mind. His father spoke for him. Their chit-chat stopped when they reached the bench. " "Thames," said Sheppard in a low voice, as he threw a vindictive glance at the carpenter, "I shan't forget this. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. He could not permit her to remain in that position.
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