Sheppard, who witnessed this occurrence with dismay, looked timorously at Wood, in expectation of some hint being given as to the course she had better pursue; but, receiving none, for the carpenter was too much agitated to attend to her, she ventured to express a fear that she was intruding. Surely it was a dream. There’s that old gentleman at the end of the table—Bullding his name is. Inside was the blue stone she had lost in the 1800’s. You see—I didn’t understand.
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