In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END. " There was a pause. , 13, Montague St. His little doll. She had mentioned the address where she and her sister had lived. One’s sense of proportion, battered out of all shape in the daily life of cities, reasserts itself. Sheppard!" echoed Jack, surprised out of his caution. She ought to be softened and tender and confidential at this phase of her life.
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