‘Certainly this is true,’ she managed. ‘Until today. The conflict was of short duration; for Shotbolt was no match for his athletic antagonist. When Sheila was in a bad mood, she berated her new foster daughter for streaks on the windows, dust on the figurines, for crooked bed sheet corners, and floors that had not been waxed properly. 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. One of the sampans was hailed, and a ropeladder was lowered.
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