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"What?—help take care of him? Why, you can't do that, Miss Enschede!" was the protest. Sheppard!" echoed Jack, surprised out of his caution. His face was aquiline but sweet, the years had not yet taken the blush from his cheeks and his lips were similarly rubefacient. He had done it. The man was my husband. She was a lovely girl, attired in deep mourning, and having an expression of profound sorrow on her charming features. "He shan't trouble you further. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely.
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