He was not sure that the boy had put himself beyond the pale; merely, the boy's actions pointed that way. "Now, give me the woollen cloth to tie round my fetters," whispered Sheppard. “I have not the least idea who he is. The boy had all kinds of opportunity; but it's the old story of father making it too easy. He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe.
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