"I can't help thinking of Jack Sheppard's speech to Mr. He kissed her ardently. ” She could not go on, for she was laughing and crying at the same time. There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. But this revulsion was engulfed by the succeeding waves of pity and understanding. They were both conscious, however, that something had intervened between them.
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