“How are you, Lucy?” Martin ran to catch her in the crowded hall. There was another little thing he had to say. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes bright. "Odd's life!" cried Gay, in astonishment; "is this slight-made stripling Jack Sheppard? Why, I expected to see a man six foot high at the least, and as broad across the shoulders as our friend Figg. Wood uttered something like an imprecation.
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