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Sheppard. ” “You can’t be killed?” He asked. She would wake in the night to repeat her bitter cry: “Oh, why did I burn those notes?” It added greatly to the annoyance of the situation that she had twice seen Ramage in the Avenue since her return to the shelter of her father’s roof. In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END. Sheppard was unwillingly compelled to listen. So, instead, they talked of dancing and what it might mean in a human life. Already the warm sun was drawing from the pines their delicious odour. Her grave fine face, her warm clear complexion, had already aroused his curiosity as he had gone to and fro in Morningside Park, and here suddenly he was near to her and talking freely and intimately. You are too kind. “You silly fool,” he said.
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