It rained slightly, and a thick mist gathered in the air, and obscured the beautiful prospect. "Answer me one question first?" he said; "I half suspect you're Jack Sheppard. The sun was setting in spectacular multicolored streams beyond Whitefield Park. I once might have married you for your beauty,—now I marry you for your wealth. And yet—Wait a little, you’d better have every bit of it. Brendon and I are great chums,” he went on nervously. ‘Precisely,’ agreed Gerald.
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