Sheppard. “Mr. ’ ‘Ah, that explains your surprise. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. I hope that some day he'll understand how much he owes you. Three short days. That would be him. In the subdued light she could not tell whether he was asleep or awake. I deemed it more prudent to send him to the Dark House than to bring him here, in case of any search after him by his adoptive father—the carpenter Wood. He wasn't satisfied with an assured income from the paper-mills your grandfather left us.
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