"Come, come, Jack," said Thames, walking up to Sheppard, and taking his hand, "have done with this. I’m the sort of dog, if you turn it out of the room it lies down on the mat at the door. She chuckled. “I say, daddy,” she began, and was suddenly short of breath. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song.
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