Smith," observed Wood. ToC That night Jack walked to Paddington, and took up his quarters at a small tavern, called the Wheat-sheaf, near the green. Poor girl! she was beautiful once; so beautiful as to make me, who care little for the allurements of women, fancy myself enamoured of her. It was for ever. As they entered the room beyond, a fierce growl was heard. “May I hear?” “It really isn’t much to tell,” Drummond answered.
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