He stood with his hands in his pockets looking at Miss Klegg’s back. Tell him the truth, Annabel. I sha’n’t care a rap if we can never marry. I know what I am doing better than you do. What has become of the other?" "Why, surely you don't mean Jack Sheppard?" cried the woollen-draper in surprise. "You mistake,—you are mine. They must see the prisoner at the hatch. She had expected a love story; and love was totally absent. This unexpected interpolation might spoil the efficacy of all that had gone before.
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