He squatted and threw his arm around the backs of her knees. "She has," rejoined Sheppard. No; she'd never go back. For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation. "Von't you hear me?—ough! ough!" demanded Sharples, after a pause. ’ ‘Indeed, I’m beginning to think so,’ he said ruefully. She was finally dead, going to Hell.
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