"Why do you ask?" rejoined the other haughtily. Darrell stopped, and drew his sword. I'd have got something nice. In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END. Brendon,” he said, “may I rob you of your guest just for the drive home? I have only a few hours in England, and Miss Pellissier is an old friend. “I will be off,” she declared. "The gentleman is a stranger to me, Poll," replied the woollen-draper, with increased embarrassment.
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