For every Eden, there will be a serpent; for every sheepfold, there will be a wolf. ’ For a moment or two there was dead silence in the parlour. M. " "To-morrow will be too late," said Sheppard, moodily. ” She grinned. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. ’ Madame Valade reseated herself, and Gerald set himself to flatter her into relaxation again. A moistened velvet touch found her tongue.
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