He lunched in the Legal Club in Chancery Lane, and met Ogilvy. "What has become of Jack Sheppard?" "Devil knows!" answered Quilt; "but I believe he's in the hands of Blueskin, so there's no doubt he'll soon be on the high-road to Tyburn. Those awful chairs!" After dinner the spinsters proceeded to inscribe their accustomed quota of postcards, and Ruth was left to herself. He eyed the young couple with the tragic history behind them, and could only suppose that familiarity had dulled their senses.
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