‘Ah, grandpére. ” They left the restaurant just as the rain slowed to a dull trickle, the fury of the storm exhausted, having left mirror puddles in its wake. She mentally resolved to do her best to avoid personal encounters with him in that instant. Sheppard, who had again looked round towards her son, beheld a hand glance along the side of the woollendraper. If he had nothing to tell her, she had nothing to ask.
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