I hope I haven't given any unintentional offence?" said the widow, again meekly appealing to Wood. So appalling was the sight, that even the murderers—familiar as they were with scenes of slaughter,—looked aghast at it. “Agreed,” he said, “certainly,” and drew a checkbook toward him. Sheppard, clasping him with a hand that burnt with fever, "I have been ill—dreadfully ill—I believe delirious—I thought I should have died last night—I won't tell you what agony you have caused me—I won't reproach you. "Your sympathy is being wasted. Sheppard, fervently. 3. Sheppard reached the debtor's garrison. All concerned in the dark transaction must have perished. I swear it. Hurrying down the Haymarket, he was arrested by a crowd who were collected round a street-singer.
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