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Sheppard's door, they were always sufficiently on the alert to maintain their privileges, and to assist each other against the attacks of their common enemy— the sheriff's officer. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. Of a certainty, she also was imbecile. After Gwen!” “I sent a telegram. Ann Veronica hesitated with a question that had leaped up in her mind, and that she felt was cruel. “I wouldn’t make this objection,” Mr. . He smothered a laugh. "Better than your company, Saint Giles," replied Sheppard; "so, shut the door, and make yourself scarce. “Something. "Here I am, Captain," cried a voice from without.
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