" "How did you escape?" asked Sheppard, who, as he shook off his slumber, began to recall the events of the previous night. And then all her restlessness was turned to joy. She thought of the suitcase, the seventy-seven dollars for a Greyhound ticket that had expired. “You must not think of me as one. You shall tell me if I am wrong. He shivered and looked behind as he stepped into his hansom. ” On the inside she felt her muscles loosen with relief. ‘That’s wicked, that is. He was damned if he knew what to do. His face was downcast.
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