Sheppard, hastily; "is that the name?" "Ay, ay, now I look again it is Trenchard. I can esteem him, regard him; but, love him as he ought to be loved—that I cannot do. "What do you think of your nephew, Sir Rowland?" whispered Jonathan, who sat with his back towards Thames, so that his features were concealed from the youth's view. Her fingers found the lump she sought and, with a little effort, she dragged out the black-wrapped foil.
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