Gerald’s gaze bored into hers. Then he sat down and filled his pipe slowly and thoughtfully. He removed his cigarette from his lips and waved it gently in the air. Sheppard, with a laugh that cut the ears of those who listened to it like a razor,—"Do not despair! And who or what shall give me comfort when my son is gone? I have wept till my eyes are dry,—suffered till my heart is broken,—prayed till the voice of prayer is dumb,—and all of no avail. Predictably, Charvill turned on him.
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