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Sheppard's dress—extremely neat and clean, but simply fashioned, and of the plainest and most unpretending material,—offered nothing assailable; and her demeanour was so humble, and her looks so modest, that—if she had been ill-looking—she might, possibly, have escaped the shafts of malice preparing to be levelled against her. What Miss Miniver would have called the Higher Truth supervenes. It was not a long prayer. This time there wasn't any doubt. “I can’t. “You know what? You’re right.
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