. Supper was spaghetti and Italian sausage that night. In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END. I was to blame to carry the matter so far. ’ ‘Yes, but I do not wish to have a mystery. ’ So pat, thought Gerald. Sheila wouldn’t allow me to date a boy even if he was only fifteen—I mean sixteen, like I am, you see. "Have nine years so changed me, that there is no trace left of your adopted son?" "God bless me!" ejaculated the carpenter, rubbing his eyes, "can—can it be?" "Surely," screamed Mrs.
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