She did most urgently desire to save her face in Morningside Park, and for long hours she could think of no way of putting it that would not be in the nature of unconditional admission of defeat. "I think I may trust him with you, Sir," added she, taking up the candle. ” For a moment she was grave. What has become of the other?" "Why, surely you don't mean Jack Sheppard?" cried the woollen-draper in surprise. Now you haven’t the ghost of one—not if you play the game fair.
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