Master and missis have been talking all day long about Jack Sheppard, and I'm dying to read his life. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. They talked for the better part of an hour, and at last walked together to the junction of highroad and the bridle-path. As if we didn’t know! The practical trouble is our ages. She was suddenly grave. “You know I’m old-fashioned, Miss Stanley.
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