"No—Sheppard?" rejoined Wild. "Mutual concessions," she added. " "You hear, my son," said the widow eagerly. “Did I do something wrong?” He asked. As she approached the corner of the Avenue the blond, no-hatted man in gray flannels appeared. He leaned forward to better drink her in. It was the beginning and the end of the transaction. At this juncture, and just as a cuckoo-clock in the corner struck sis, Jack Sheppard walked into the room, with the packing-case under his arm.
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