"What's that you're saying about Jack Sheppard?" she cried. There's my thumb upon it. "Often. "Odd's life!" cried Gay, in astonishment; "is this slight-made stripling Jack Sheppard? Why, I expected to see a man six foot high at the least, and as broad across the shoulders as our friend Figg. “You see,” she said, very gently, “I AM going. “You will sign the contract?” “I shall sign the contract.
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