This morning he heard voices—McClintock's and the Wastrel's. She was by his side. "Good bye, Jack! Keep up your spirits. " "Accident or not," rejoined Sheppard; "you're no longer pall of mine. Work becomes distasteful; one thinks of holidays. There sprang from that a vague hope that perhaps she might extort a capitulation from her father by a threat to seek that position, and then with overwhelming clearness it came to her that whatever happened she would never be able to tell her father about her debt. She was a small blonde, not handsome, but with a flair for fashion demonstrated by her elegant chemise gown in the very latest Canterbury muslin, with its low décolletage barely concealed under a fine lawn handkerchief set about her shoulders, and decorated with a mauve satin sash at the waist.
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