You are to come home. . Sheppard, with a laugh that cut the ears of those who listened to it like a razor,—"Do not despair! And who or what shall give me comfort when my son is gone? I have wept till my eyes are dry,—suffered till my heart is broken,—prayed till the voice of prayer is dumb,—and all of no avail. If he took a fancy to you, he invited you to the house for tea, bitter and yellow and served in little cups without handles. ‘Beg pardon, sir?’ asked the sergeant, evidently mystified.
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