She shook her head. "I was," answered Sheppard. Hell's curses! that after all my precautions I should be thus entrapped. His demeanour then was sober enough to lend colour to that belief. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. But they were too late.
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