Good-bye aunt. How Jack Sheppard got rid of his Irons. Please sit down, Miss —dear me, I haven’t asked you your name yet. Sheppard. For yonder went the loneliest man in all God's unhappy world. At the back of the house, on a bank, rose an old-fashioned terrace-garden, full of apple-trees and other fruittrees in blossom, and lively with the delicious verdure of early spring. She opened the door to him herself.
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