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Grace, confidence, the power of movement even, seemed gone from her. My heart misgives me. “There is someone in my rooms,” Anna said. Sheppard's dress—extremely neat and clean, but simply fashioned, and of the plainest and most unpretending material,—offered nothing assailable; and her demeanour was so humble, and her looks so modest, that—if she had been ill-looking—she might, possibly, have escaped the shafts of malice preparing to be levelled against her. They don’t know who did it, actually. dear.
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