"Well, gentlemen," rejoined Wood, mildly; "since Mr. "I am no man's mistress," answered the widow, crimsoning to her temples, but preserving her meek deportment, and humble tone. But if you wouldn't have me positively dislike Jack Sheppard, you'll never mention such a subject again. Their faces were masks of abject horror, sunken and shriveled, their cheekbones protruding.
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