Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. Sheppard staggered forward. “I may be leaving where I am in a few days, so very likely you will be no better off. There was the same airy grace of movement, the same deep brown hair and alabaster skin. She never grew angry for anything her husband did: such anger as came to her was directed against the lazy, incompetent servant who was always snooping about in the inner temple—Spurlock's study.
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