His friendship seemed a thing worth having. But his words were borne away by the driving wind. So it does. Something insisted that those two were mysteriously linked—that the woman knew the man was there. Reaction set in and she leapt at him, beating at his chest with her fists. She led him up the long hall solemnly. “We have,” he said, “to be the utmost friends. It's fortunate we've no more Jack Sheppards, or I should stand but a poor chance. He embraced her fully. Marvel held her handkerchief to her eyes, and appeared in great distress.
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