Ann Veronica looked bright and a little elated, and she disregarded her father’s invitation to be seated. A moment more and he would have been crushed beneath the ponderous board, when a slight but strong arm arrested its descent. She was trembling a little. "Jack Sheppard," returned the boy, fixing his eyes upon a portrait of the Earl of Mar. A gaunt, powerful man: no feature of his face decided, and yet for all that it had the significance of a countenance hewn out of rock.
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