XII JACK SHEPPARD A Romance BY W. “To tell you the truth, it has seemed just lately as though we were becoming in some measure estranged. Presently the odour of burnt powder mingled agreeably with that of the incense. I walked London till the soles of my shoes were worn through, and my toes were blistered. ‘Obstinate fool!’ She saw Gosse raise a hand, and dug into her nun’s habit for the knife she had not thought to need. I don’t know what has come over me.
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