The idea of this sudden reluctance was elusive; the fact was evident but not the reason for it. But he wrote on. “How are you?” He asked, realizing she was unnerved by the very sound of his voice. Sheppard. She turned a resolute face southward. The shot had taken effect upon the waterman who rowed the chase. The terrors and anxieties of the last few months seemed to have fallen from her, to have passed away like an ugly dream, dismissed with a shudder even from the memory. “A confusion of motives—that’s what I am!.
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