Sheila’s own waif of a husband had objected to her airing the truth, he had even gotten the nerve to bring up the word divorce. “You know I’m old-fashioned, Miss Stanley. ” The conversation hung for a moment. 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.
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