Sheppard, passionately,—"he has my boundless gratitude, and devotion. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. Unfortunately, I have little detail of the circumstances which surrounded the birth of the girl, and her subsequent removal to France. She had never been able to discover where her father had hidden his shaving mirror. She sank upon her knees and unbuttoned his coat. We stepped from the Embassy into the motor—and oh! I thought that he was dead. I am the richest man in the world. "Read that.
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