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"That I can't say. Daughters were not like sons. Sheppard, with a laugh that cut the ears of those who listened to it like a razor,—"Do not despair! And who or what shall give me comfort when my son is gone? I have wept till my eyes are dry,—suffered till my heart is broken,—prayed till the voice of prayer is dumb,—and all of no avail. You are not with the Kent militia, are you?’ ‘West Kent, yes. "A hell of a muddle! But all the talk in the world can't undo it. I’ve paid for you and helped you, and I’m going to conquer you somehow—if I have to break you to do it. " "Mr. Particularly when it was obvious the fellow was one of these pitiful wretches weak enough to allow themselves to be ousted from their inheritances and thus obliged to come seeking succour of their neighbours.
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