I can smell you. “Let’s go home. Sheppard!" sighed Winifred, as she contemplated the beautiful wreck before her,—"Poor Mrs. "You came hither under my protection, and you shall depart freely,—nay, more, you shall have an hour's grace. "I could almost find in my heart to quarrel with Jack Sheppard for occasioning you so much pain," observed little Winifred Wood, as, having completed her ministration to the best of her ability, she helped Thames on with his coat. . .
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