\" Michelle dialed and handed the phone to Lucy. All at once her heart began to patter queerly. " "Can I have a word with you, master?" said Sheppard, approaching Wood. Sheppard's habitation terminated a row of old ruinous buildings, called Wheeler's Rents; a dirty thoroughfare, part street, and part lane, running from Mint Street, through a variety of turnings, and along the brink of a deep kennel, skirted by a number of petty and neglected gardens in the direction of Saint George's Fields. "You've hit it," answered Sheppard. ” She paused for a moment. " "Now for it!—life or death!" exclaimed Jack, assuming the gait of a female, and stepping towards the door. Lord, I am sixty. SHOOH!” “That’s no reason,” said Ann Veronica, speaking through her handkerchief and stopping abruptly. Left to himself, he took a survey of the room, and his heart leaped as he beheld over the, chimney-piece, a portrait of himself. Jack Sheppard is to me what Thames Darrell is to you—an object of hatred.
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