"Spare him!" cried Mrs, Sheppard, who fancied she had made some impression on the obdurate breast of the thief-taker,—"spare him! and I will forgive you, will thank you, bless you. I shall borrow it and apply it to you, Hilary. The poor wretch, driven by desperation to the commission of a crime which her soul abhors, is no more beyond the hope of reformation than she is without the pale of mercy. He passed but a cursory glance over the formal certificate that identified the Frenchman before him as one André Valade, distant cousin to the Vicomte Valade. One from 1966, a yearbook photo reprinted in a newspaper. Think—think of that engagement!” Their talk had come to eloquent silences that contradicted all he had to say.
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