She sat on the edge of her bed and looked about her, at her room, at the row of black-covered books and the pig’s skull. “Forgive you, indeed. At least I rather hoped I might spend my time chasing smugglers, which would have afforded some excitement. The gentleman didn't communicate his business to me. Sheppard, you mean, Sir," interrupted his wife, ironically. "You hesitate—you are deceiving me.
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