She’s naïve, and yet uncannily shrewd at times, and you daren’t rely on anything she says. Sheppard's ward, Sir. She would become defensive—what she did would be the thing that mattered. ToC That night Jack walked to Paddington, and took up his quarters at a small tavern, called the Wheat-sheaf, near the green. Amid this portentous hush, the report of a pistol reached the carpenter's ears; and, raising his head at the sound, he beheld a sight which filled him with fresh apprehensions.
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