As they neared the house, Jack Sheppard, who led the way, halted and addressed his companion in a low voice:— "I don't half like this job, Blueskin," he said; "it always went against the grain. I still have a cross stitch she made for me of a little fairy sitting on a daffodil. “My dear child,” he said, “with me you need have no apprehension. Read that letter, Thames—my lord marquis, I mean. I’m not half smart enough for the West End. She had money of her own—much more than I have—and there was no need to squabble about that. There was more shouting. She drew a chair to the window and stared at the splendour of the tropical night. Winny, show the person into this room.
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