"There it is!" cried Sir James, eagerly. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. Running to Gosse, she seized the portrait from his hand and lashed out, taking him off guard, so that he staggered back and fell against the card table. Jack Sheppard's Quarrel with Jonathan Wild 254 IV. We shall have a reg'lar squall afore we gets across.
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