“Morning, Mom. And the woollen-draper departed. She looked up and said, a little breathlessly, “I’m sorry, aunt, but I don’t think I can. ‘At this present, I must appropriate Lady Bicknacre. One day a pall of blackness encompassed the sick mind of the giant; and when he came to his senses, they properly functioned: and he saw his wife by his bedside! An astonishing idea entered Ruth's head one day—when the novel was complete in the rough—an astonishing idea because it had not developed long ago. Sheppard repressed the scream that rose to her lips, and both mother and son gazed with apprehension at the heavy figure of the thief-taker, which, viewed in the twilight, seemed dilated to twice its natural size, and appeared almost to block up the window. Don’t say anything, she thought to herself, say nothing more, Martin.
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