"I don't know how it is," he added in a low voice to Thames, as they were left alone, "but I've a strange foreboding of ill. The cultivated indifference, which was part of the armour of his little world fell away from him. ToC That night Jack walked to Paddington, and took up his quarters at a small tavern, called the Wheat-sheaf, near the green. Sheppard. "Yes," answered the girl.
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