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So far as the eye could reach, the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty. “Then I don’t take this as final. My son went down after his death. I suppose you will think me very unsisterly and cold-hearted, but there are circumstances in connexion with my sister’s latest exploit which are intensely irritating both to my husband and to myself. “A wonderful piece of work,” he declared. Were I not Jonathan Wild, I'd be Jack Sheppard. But no; she must step warily.
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