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He allowed his voice to drip with sympathy. You couldn’t help it. 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. But escape to where? She thought of the ships that sailed from the peninsulas to hot deserts where spices were traded. Ramage back his forty pounds. He had seldom been more perturbed. ‘Left to yourself, my girl, you may not have any affairs. And now, Sir, have I kept faith with you?" "You have," replied Darrell.
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