“An uncle in New York is dead, and has left him loads of money. “Delicious!” she murmured. "Odd's life!" cried Gay, in astonishment; "is this slight-made stripling Jack Sheppard? Why, I expected to see a man six foot high at the least, and as broad across the shoulders as our friend Figg. He blushed, too, spiritually, as it were. Much too formal for a cosy chat between old friends. He glanced at Miss Klegg again, and spoke quickly and furtively, with eager eyes on Ann Veronica’s face. Then began expostulations, preluded by a telegram and headed by her aunt. Rhea commanded her. You know not in what dark places my life has been cast; with what crimes it has been stained. She was surprised to find how stored her mind was with impressions and memories of him, how vividly she remembered his gestures and little things that he had said.
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