\" She whirled around by instinct, frightening the boy who she had borrowed the pencil from. "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. \" They talked until midnight most nights. ‘My God!’ he said, ‘I’ll go after them and kill him.
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