The clerk at the Raffles Hotel had accorded her but scant interest. “Even if he lives here you may go all your life and never come face to face with him again. Sheppard. Spurling, half aside. Good riddance. Love stories!… A sob rushed into her throat, and to smother it she buried her face in a pillow. I'll eat them when we start. Unless it was a jewel or locket of some kind. Capes would come to these teas; he evidently liked to come, and he would appear in the doorway of the preparation-room, a pleasing note of shyness in his manner, hovering for an invitation.
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