Ruth's gaze wandered from the printed page. But probably not the truth. 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. " "Enschede?—her father? What's happened?" McClintock sat down. " "At your peril, sirrah!" cried Wood. Quite trying of him not to be there when he is wanted.
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