He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe. Sheppard," said the carpenter, advancing to meet her, and trying to look as cheerful and composed as he could; "what brings you to town, eh?— Nothing amiss, I trust?" "Nothing whatever, Sir," answered the widow. Occasionally the canvas snapped as the wind veered slightly. The longing to talk to someone! But in the end she had gone to her room without giving in to the craving.
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