Fixing a ferocious and exulting look upon Jack Sheppard, he exclaimed. Sheppard raised her eyes, and fixed them upon her interrogator. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. “John, don’t!” she cried. I have hurt and snubbed poor Teddy.
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