As they neared the house, Jack Sheppard, who led the way, halted and addressed his companion in a low voice:— "I don't half like this job, Blueskin," he said; "it always went against the grain. Morgan the trader did not haggle over the pearls, but gave me at once what he judged a fair price. His brows drew a little nearer together. Monsieur Charvill, he has not the means to choose different. I’ve a dread of love dropping its petals, becoming mean and ugly. For a time she could scarcely believe he was gone.
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