’ ‘No, sister, I know that, but—’ ‘You needn’t tell me. Each one had been different from the others, each had had a quality all its own, a distinctive freshness, a distinctive beauty. At this juncture, and just as a cuckoo-clock in the corner struck sis, Jack Sheppard walked into the room, with the packing-case under his arm. And, if it had not been for a taste for plotting, which was continually getting him into scrapes, he might have been accounted a respectable member of society.
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