Wood was an old friend of mine—and I recollect seeing Jack when he was bound 'prentice to him. "There's Sharples," cried Quilt. “There are a few fees. Blue haze had settled beyond the black silhouettes of trees, graduating to the deep violet that began the night sky. Sir John and Annabel seated themselves at one of them, and the proprietor himself, a small dark-visaged man, radiant with smiles, came hurrying up, followed by a waiter.
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