Alas! that the punishment of his offences should fall on her head. Perhaps it was loneliness. Sheppard looked fixedly at him, as if she would penetrate the gloomy depth of his soul. Sheppard, passing her hand across her brow; "but my memory is gone—quite gone. Her loneliness was consuming, Lucia. Essentially the talk was a mixture of fragments of sentences heard, of passages read, or arguments indicated rather than stated, and all of it was served in a sauce of strange enthusiasm, thin yet intense.
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