The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. "Jack," continued Thames, addressing Sheppard, who had only just recovered from the blow, and regained his feet, "I don't ask how you came here, nor do I blame your rashness in doing so. He would go there. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery. You don’t want to miss the sport.
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