The oblique ruddy lighting distorted them oddly, made queer bars and patches of shadow upon their clothes. ‘The man’s gone,’ her old nurse told her, when she had recovered a little. “I was already aware of the fact. They had been playing tennis, with his manifest intention looming over her. Kneebone, respecting the lawless career of Jack Sheppard, and struck with the probable fate that awaited him, the young man, as he contemplated this scene, fell into a gloomy reverie. Ann Veronica, with a sigh at the cost of hospitality, made a hasty negotiation for an extra tea and for a fire in the groundfloor apartment, and preened herself carefully for the interview.
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