"No—Sheppard?" rejoined Wild. “What ought you to do?” He began to produce his knowledge of the world for her benefit, jerkily and allusively, and with a strong, rank flavor of “savoir faire. They were bickering, she could tell by the way the mother threw her fat arms into the air and paced restlessly about the tiny clapboard house. I was—I was a corespondent. ’ The breathy laugh came, and Madame Valade abandoned her fan.
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