By the by, Mr. Sheppard!" sighed Winifred, as she contemplated the beautiful wreck before her,—"Poor Mrs. ‘C’est ridicule. And at the sight something leaped within her. The figure of the girl upon it in plain black dress, standing with her hands behind her, was an undeniable and astonishing likeness of herself. Epithalamy might do. There was a third lady among the younger set.
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