But when she saw the car, her body filled with dread, for it gave her a bad feeling. Very doubtful. The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. "What's that you're taking to Sir Rowland Trenchard's?" "Only a box, Sir," answered Sheppard, emptying the glass. It was a spring-tide at half ebb; and the current, which was running fast and furiously, bore him instantly away.
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