It was the moment for smiles. Mr. "Constance—or, rather, Mrs. E. It seemed older than Rome, and the stone covering it gave resistance. Very intelligent, by the looks of the books she was carrying. Cathy chimed. "Odd's life!" cried Gay, in astonishment; "is this slight-made stripling Jack Sheppard? Why, I expected to see a man six foot high at the least, and as broad across the shoulders as our friend Figg. You must tell me what it all means.
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