" "To-morrow will be too late," said Sheppard, moodily. "I dare say she has called to inquire about Jack. She no more realizes what she has done than a child of eight. The latch had not fully caught. The smells of skewered fennel, roast chicken, and broiled pheasant saturated the air, and she could smell other wonderful aromas about them. ” She shrugged her shoulders and led him towards a small recess. ’ ‘No, you are a gentleman,’ she agreed.
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