Jack Kimble. He took a handful of almonds and raisins that she held out to him—for both these young people had given up the practice of going out for luncheon—and kept her hand for a moment to kiss her finger-tips. Kneebone, I'll make one of the party. "Odd's life!" cried Gay, in astonishment; "is this slight-made stripling Jack Sheppard? Why, I expected to see a man six foot high at the least, and as broad across the shoulders as our friend Figg. I shall quit it and go abroad. Will you marry me?” Anna looked at him in blank amazement. Opposite, his pupil stood with bowed head and clasped hands. He pointed to where the lights still burned in Anna’s windows. .
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