"Spare him!" cried Mrs, Sheppard, who fancied she had made some impression on the obdurate breast of the thief-taker,—"spare him! and I will forgive you, will thank you, bless you. ” Her mind diverged to other aspects, and another type of womanhood. "How shall I get to you?" "My yacht is in the river. We've never caught him cheating at cards; too clever; but we know he cheats. ” She stopped with an air of interrogation.
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