“John, you were never bound to me, you don’t owe me anything. I could see his little animal brain churning away, inventing plans for me, formulating his revenge. "Ay, ay," rejoined Sheppard; "he may do what he pleases,—hang me, if he thinks proper,—if you wish it. “I don’t know where to go to. Pramlay received them in the pretty chintz drawing-room, which opened by French windows on the trim garden, with its croquet lawn, its tennis-net in the middle distance, and its remote rose alley lined with smart dahlias and flaming sunflowers.
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