The house will be well rid of him, for a more idle, good-for-nothing reprobate never crossed its threshold. "Jack Sheppard's fingers are lime-twigs. 9. "Well!" cried Mrs. Gregory B. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. . "Good gracious! so I do," exclaimed his amiable consort. " "Your arrival was most providential," said Jack. “Stop me if there is anything you want to watch.
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