"My mother,—my poor mother!" exclaimed Jack. "And yet—but it is only part of the chain of ill-luck that seems wound around me. "May I be cursed," muttered Sheppard, as he slunk away with (as the woollendraper pleasantly observed) 'a couple of boxes in charge,' "if ever I try to be honest again!" "Take a little toasted cheese with the swig, Mr. ” In the car, John was wound up.
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