There had been disappointments and humiliations, and although she hated to admit it even to herself, she was in desperate straits. Sheppard looked fixedly at him, as if she would penetrate the gloomy depth of his soul. At the least, the tales had the ability to make her forget where she was; which was something in their favour. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. But his treasured dream lay shattered at his feet. “I thought you wanted to have a talk to me,” she said. “I think everything’s right,” said Ann Veronica, with the roaming eye of a capable but not devoted house-mistress. I was helpless.
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