But there was no sign from her. "Ay, ay," rejoined Sheppard; "he may do what he pleases,—hang me, if he thinks proper,—if you wish it. Wood. "And I," muttered Jack. “But—” The long inconsecutive conversation by that time was getting on her nerves. His gaze drawn, Gerald watched him dip to pick up a crushed square of white linen and a starched object that resembled a helmet.
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