132 “I thought you wanted me—you told me so when we kissed in the park!” He cried. I have something that weighs heavily upon my mind. James Figg was the most perfect master of self-defence of his day. She came along with the fluttering assurance of some tall ship. She did not wait, but grabbed up the lantern and slid into the passage, calling to them to hurry. I've watched this lad—this Sheppard—from infancy; and, though I have apparently concerned myself little about him, I have never lost sight of my purpose.
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