She was a lovely girl, attired in deep mourning, and having an expression of profound sorrow on her charming features. “You are talking like a boy. "Your son is a lad of spirit, Mr. Sheppard," cried the thief-taker, as he slipped a pair of handcuffs over Jack's wrists, "for the help you have given us in capturing your son. She breathed deeply, and he breathed sympathetically. “What a gloomy person you are!” she murmured. He patted the hand on his sleeve.
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