The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. The Well Hole 336 XIII. But I know a little place where we’ll get a little quiet talk. She stood without motion and without strength. "I do," replied Sheppard. It is the worst of talk under such social circumstances that it is always getting cut off so soon as it is beginning; and I went home that afternoon feeling I had said nothing—literally nothing—of the things I had meant to say to you and that were coursing through my head.
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