But I've an idea as well as you, grounded in some measure upon Sheppard's story. The man pulled up. ’ She shuddered, throwing her hands over her face. He swore that I was his wife, that chance had given me to him at last. She saw now that it was not a dissipated face; it was as smooth and unlined as polished marble, which at present it resembled. Her pulses began to race. Stay! I'll go myself. He was twenty-nine at the time, practically an old man.
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