The farmer was a widow who was slightly famous around town for his prize cows and slightly more famous for his good looks. ” Chapter XIX “THIS IS NOT THE END” “I said some afternoon,” she remarked, throwing open her warm coat, and taking off her gloves, “but I certainly did not mean to-day. Sheppard, who had again looked round towards her son, beheld a hand glance along the side of the woollendraper. “How old are you?” “Sixteen. Using the shirt, she cleaned away the blood. Sheppard, gently, "nor do I need any. You are much more like what I was then. ” He was still conscious when they reached the hospital and his state was much more favourable.
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