Sheppard!" echoed Jack, surprised out of his caution. “Act three. " "My poor son!" groaned the widow, sinking backwards. Still—I don’t know whether I quite like—Something ramshackle about those people, Vee. " "Mr. Sheppard, as a storm of furious voices resounded from below, and torches were seen mounting the stairs; "they are coming!—they are coming!—fly!—to the roof! to the roof. Sheppard staggered forward. She returned home through a world that was as roseate as it had been gray overnight.
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