It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. He sat up in his chair as though the question had stung him. ” He said. Sheppard, with a laugh that cut the ears of those who listened to it like a razor,—"Do not despair! And who or what shall give me comfort when my son is gone? I have wept till my eyes are dry,—suffered till my heart is broken,—prayed till the voice of prayer is dumb,—and all of no avail. Tell me what you think the island is like.
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