"What's that you're saying about Jack Sheppard?" she cried. ” He smiled at her. I hated the stuff. With his tongue lolling and his flea-bitten stump wagging apologetically, he glanced from face to face to see if there was any forgiveness visible. She had never seen so much food in her life as she saw at her own wedding feast. “You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason.
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