Always her prayers ended—'And may my beautiful mother guide me!' No. The inner apartment was rather gracefully furnished with a thick, fine Turkish carpet, a good brass fender, a fine old bureau, and on the walls were engravings of two young girls’ heads by Greuze, and of some modern picture of boys bathing in a sunlit pool. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. "Is it you?" "It is," replied Sheppard, as he untied the cords.
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