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The discourse, then, turned to Darrell's old playmate, Jack Sheppard; and Mr. CHAPTER XIV. “But you must forgive me, John. " McClintock preferred to put it thus. Only how had they missed him? Were they imbecile? Or perhaps the mists had concealed him from them. Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. He seemed too noisy.
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