"I forgot. , 13, Montague St. Weeks hurled past, weeks that turned into months. What has become of the other?" "Why, surely you don't mean Jack Sheppard?" cried the woollen-draper in surprise. He panted for a moment with unuttered replies, and then, with a scornful gesture, got up and left the cell. E. Shari draped herself lazily upon her unmade bed. He was a business man, pure and simple, his eyes were fastened always upon the practical side of life.
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