XII JACK SHEPPARD A Romance BY W. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. ’ ‘You,’ announced the lady, throwing an explosive glare at the captain, ‘are a person entirely without sense. You creep around in a nun’s habit, peering into a private ballroom. "How goes it?" he began, heartily. There are so many girls nowadays who are quite unpresentable at tea, with their untrimmed laughs, their awful dispositions of their legs when they sit down, their slangy disrespect; they no longer smoke, it is true, like the girls of the eighties and nineties, nevertheless to a fine intelligence they have the flavor of tobacco. “Perhaps for myself I do not mind, but this man is sure to find out some day, and he will not like having been deceived.
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