She drew his penis out of the strange little vent in his boxer shorts. 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. Until then we mean to keep on hammering away. And then—this sudden thrust.
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