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"Ay, ay," rejoined Sheppard; "he may do what he pleases,—hang me, if he thinks proper,—if you wish it. Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury. “I’d give anything,” he remarked, “to see our little Vee happily and comfortably married. And the infernal thought of that kiss returned—the softness of her lips and the cool smoothness of her cheeks. Maggot, bursting into a loud contemptuous laugh. Sheppard, he turned to quit the churchyard. "I haven't offended you?"—not contritely but curiously. Even our coarseness. Every eye was fixed upon the prisoner.
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