Pottiswick’s daughter found her tongue. But she felt his lax figure become rigid. “I have to go out. The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same. Tom Sheppard was always a close file, and would never tell whom he married. The young man was mollified by her sympathy, and flattered by the obvious attempts of several of the other guests to draw him into conversation. “About my sister,” she repeated slowly.
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