The constable, Sharples, is in my pay. He called a waiter. Ennison’s manner was certainly not one of a willing host. “It’s very good,” she said. I can't run in these heavy fetters. Sheppard," said the carpenter, advancing to meet her, and trying to look as cheerful and composed as he could; "what brings you to town, eh?— Nothing amiss, I trust?" "Nothing whatever, Sir," answered the widow.
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