“This life is killing me! Oh, it is dull, dull, dull!” Suddenly an idea seemed to strike her. She had gladly lowered her eyes as she had been instructed to in front of the fine ladies and lords, as she was more interested in their clothing and fripperies than their faces. “It was a phase,” she said. Entering the outer gate, and traversing the broad gravel walk before-mentioned, Jack ascended the steps, and was admitted, on feeing the porter, by another iron gate, into the hospital. He hated the taste of it. Eyebrows knitting, she looked towards the ground a few feet away from him, guiltily. Sheppard raised her hand, and the malediction trembled upon her tongue.
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