Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips. I wonder what it was. He looked at her for a moment in a puzzled sort of way. As Spurlock called her name, she paused and turned. In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut. Turning quickly round, in the hope of discovering the thief, he was no less surprised than distressed—for in spite of his faults, the woollen-draper was a good-natured fellow—to perceive Jack Sheppard in custody.
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