And now," she added, glancing contemptuously at the woollen-draper, "I'll go to Jack Sheppard. Mrs. . At the sight of her he became rigid and a singularly bright shade of pink. ‘Do not speak of him. Perhaps she might never come back to that breakfast-room again. “I have waited for this,” he said, and stood quite still, looking at her until the silence became oppressive. They were now in a sort of cellar, at one end of which was a door.
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