47 was no more than a sort of railway compartment on the way to that. CHAPTER XXII. ‘I can’t think how I’ve tolerated myself all these years. But seriously ——” “Well seriously?” “Isn’t it your own fault a little? Why do you not tell me your address, and allow me to call upon you. It seemed to show a want of affection, to be a deliberate and unmerited disregard, to justify the reprisal of being hurt. Earles protested, seating himself before the desk, and dipping his pen in the ink. “Here goes,” he said. " "I thought you told me that the rascal who has so long been the terror of the town —Jack Sheppard—was in custody. She herself had cut the slender tie that had bound them. I've got to know why. —Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries.
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