“I cannot part with you. Your sister! Great God, how like she is to what you were!” Annabel looked around her nervously. 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. “You are certain of this. ‘Exactly like my father.
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