Sheppard repressed the scream that rose to her lips, and both mother and son gazed with apprehension at the heavy figure of the thief-taker, which, viewed in the twilight, seemed dilated to twice its natural size, and appeared almost to block up the window. Swiftly following the sound of knocking, she crossed right and passed through a door near the windows—and found herself in the bookroom. “I love you, Ann Veronica. Wood, disdainfully.
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