“Life—things—I don’t think her prospects now—Hopeful outlook. Sheppard, smiling through her tears. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. Wet as he was, he felt if he lay down in the grass, he should perish with cold; while, if he sought a night's lodging in any asylum, his dress, stained with blood and covered with dirt, would infallibly cause him to be secured and delivered into the hands of justice. "You needn't gag me," he added, "I'll not cry out. With an open hand, he slapped her face. She almost submitted to this ending of her adventure.
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