After all, what did it matter?—it or anything else in the world? She was within reach of his arms, beautiful, compelling, herself as it seemed suddenly conscious of the light which was burning in his eyes. Yes, yes; that was all very well in ordinary cases; but yonder was a soul in travail, if ever she had seen one. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. There was no keeping Sheila from the truth, and it was better that anyone who lived under her roof knew it. .
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