What has become of the other?" "Why, surely you don't mean Jack Sheppard?" cried the woollen-draper in surprise. But I do hope, Vee, I do hope—this is the end of these adventures. "No offence, I hope, my dear Mrs. The man himself was not a pleasant object. Sheppard. His arm fell to his side. I will dedicate my books to you. His name was Peter. She told me the tale the other night, and I've only elaborated it.
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