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. ’ ‘Who’s bleeding to death?’ demanded Trodger. ‘I knew it. He looked at her reproachfully. I’ll make any reasonable arrangement you like. But for the next few days he avoided Cheveney like the plague. "My old coco is disintegrating. I feel at moments as though I could bolt for it.
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