"What's that you're saying about Jack Sheppard?" she cried. Sheppard. "How very fortunate it is," he observed, "that I happened to call upon Mr. Perhaps," she added, in a whisper, as she appropriated the beforenamed article, "he has a pocket-book. Running to Gosse, she seized the portrait from his hand and lashed out, taking him off guard, so that he staggered back and fell against the card table. The only inconvenience I feel from my shattered noddle is an incapacity to drink.
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