But we've got to cook up some kind of a story to protect her. The dog was, in a sense, a gift of the gods. ‘You have not the right. Between the two officers, with their arms linked in his, Jack Sheppard was conducted to the cart. ‘That’s my pet name. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect.
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