' It is signed JACK SHEPPARD. Nothing is wrong that you do. Jackson. She’d prefer that I read classic literature, of course, but she only reads paperback romance novels, so she can’t exactly complain. The knots and broken pale that made the garden-fence scalable, and gave access to the fields behind, were still to be traced. “Until you marry, Vee,” said Hetty. He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. Perhaps that other boy who visited you backstage at the concert. Some rustic hand had written upon the door "JACK SHEPPARD'S CAGE;" and upon the wall was affixed a large placard describing his person, and offering a reward for his capture. A dreamy sense of content crept over him. I call upon you to assist me in the apprehension of this person.
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