You creep around in a nun’s habit, peering into a private ballroom. As to Jack Sheppard, he appeared utterly reckless and insensible, and did nothing but whistle and sing the whole way. “I must explain to her. “Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent. A dozen books lay upon the counterpane. CHAPTER XVIII The doctor reached for the key and studied it sombrely.
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