Capes was irritatingly judicial in the matter, neither absurdly against, in which case one might have smashed him, or hopelessly undecided, but tepidly sceptical. "It's like enough, I dare say," rejoined Sheppard. “You were talking to that fellow Ramage to-day—in the Avenue. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. " "I tell 'ee what, saltwater," said Ben, "I'll lay you my fare—and that'll be two shillin'—I'm back in an hour.
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