"By my soul," said the sexton, "that's as like Jack Sheppard as any one I ever seed i' my born days. She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear. ‘For that I shall certainly not leave until you have told me every tiny detail. Then, quite insensibly, her queenliness had declined. ‘Beg pardon, sir?’ asked the sergeant, evidently mystified. “You are one of those who must know all about it.
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