. But never had the hand touched her with a father's caress; never had he taken her into his arms; never had he kissed her. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. "Is it you?" "It is," replied Sheppard, as he untied the cords. She must kill this man, or kill herself.
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