I was happy to oblige them, I had grown sick of the heat of the south and all the miserable sun. So get up, and let's be off. Jack Sheppard is to me what Thames Darrell is to you—an object of hatred. ” “I understand,” he said, doggedly. Voices floated down, but there was no sound of pursuit. He seemed so clean anyway, his fair 215 skin, his light brown hair, there almost seemed to be no point. She ought to have leapt back on guard. The silence grew unbearable, so she asked, \"What is your surname, John?\" \"My surname? You mean my last name?\" \"Yes.
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