The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. Sheppard, bitterly. "And so I want the boy out of the way," he concluded. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. “I’ll ruin your suit. ” Brendon was not inclined to be led away from the point.
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