And it filled seven sheets of notepaper, each written only on one side. "Jack Sheppard," returned the boy, fixing his eyes upon a portrait of the Earl of Mar. Apparently he had projected beyond his table some hypnotic thought, for it had held him all through the dining hour. “You mustn’t talk any more,” he said, “but I want you to listen to me just for a moment. “So it seems that I was wrong. “Do you mean, aunt,” she asked, “that my father thought I had gone off—with some man?” “What else COULD he think? Would any one DREAM you would be so mad as to go off alone?” “After—after what had happened the night before?” “Oh, why raise up old scores? If you could see him this morning, his poor face as white as a sheet and all cut about with shaving! He was for coming up by the very first train and looking for you, but I said to him, ‘Wait for the letters,’ and there, sure enough, was yours. " "Mr.
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