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A hazy face appeared through the fog of sleep, pale and thin and looming. The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had. “I feel shabby and disgraced. "Set Captain Sheppard free, and when I hear he's safe,—not before,—I'll put the money and papers into your possession, and some other matters, too, that you know nothing about. ” “That’s rather a fine sort of holiday!” He made no answer for three or four seconds. She nodded.
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