A shudder rippled across his shoulders. It's fortunate we've no more Jack Sheppards, or I should stand but a poor chance. I hardly see you anymore. In the little apartment, under the gas chandelier, his inches and his stoop were certainly very effective. “It’s unforgivable of me to call, Miss Stanley,” he said, shaking hands in a peculiar, high, fashionable manner; “but you know you said we might be friends. ‘So it would appear.
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