Jonathan, however, paid no sort of attention to this demonstration of hatred. "Them's catchpoles, I s'pose, Sir, arter the gemman with a writ?" he observed. ‘It weren’t my wish, miss, I can tell you that. Instead, she laughed, laughed with lips and eyes, laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks. "I should be sorry to proceed to extremities," continued Sheppard, again raising the pistol. “More coffee, hon?” She held her hand over the cup. “It is like old times,” she said, “to hear these home truths. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters.
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