A lean young man in spectacles pursued her for some time, crying “Courage! Courage!” Somebody threw a dab of mud at her, and some of it got down her neck. Sheppard, so that if the blow had been stricken she must have received it. But she felt his lax figure become rigid. A stout female stood in the aperture, an oil lamp in her hand. I have never wept since that day.
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