The sidewalk resonated with the pounding of cold rain by the time she left the building. Before a word could be said, however, a slight noise was heard in the chimney, and Jack with his irons on descended from it. "My son! my dear, dear son!" returned Mrs. Sheppard, with startling eagerness. It was not due to shyness: it was the inherent instinct of the Woman, a protective fear that she must retain some elements of mystery in order to hold the interest of the male. But, on the bursting of that bubble, his hopes vanished with it. “I lied, as I would have committed a murder, or done any evil deed sooner than lose you. ” He closed the door partially behind himself. She laughed nervously, but kept her eyes averted. We’re closer than you think.
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