"You won't refuse it, Mr. What has become of the other?" "Why, surely you don't mean Jack Sheppard?" cried the woollen-draper in surprise. It was very pretty and very dainty while it lasted, but we played it with our eyes open, and we perfectly understood the game—both of us. Now, abruptly, they were real again, though very distant, and she had come to say farewell to them across one sundering year. He began to talk again in quick undertones that she could not clearly hear.
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