Sheppard, passing her hands over his face, and gazing at him with a look that made him shudder. ‘Who me, sir? Lor’ no, sir. She’s right upstairs. The same teardrop bust, the same long waist, the same thick legs. The material cares of life hang about your neck like a millstone. Had he come to see her to find if she needed something? No. . He had a flattish, perhaps, it should be called, a flattened nose, and a brown, leathernlooking hide, that seemed as if it had not unfrequently undergone the process of tanning. If you don’t like it, I won’t be mad, I promise. After all, it was really rather funny. " "As many as you please," replied Wood, walking towards the chimney-piece, and taking down a constable's, staff, which hung upon a nail.
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