"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. She watched her friend rise and go towards her affianced husband, a look of mischief in her face. His baggy shorts sagged over knobby knees that tapered into decrepit Reebok sneakers. ‘For that I shall certainly not leave until you have told me every tiny detail. Anna sprang lightly away across the street. So I come round the other way and—Lordy, miss, I’m that sorry I made a mull of it. ‘Unless he is himself a man of substance.
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