"You!" cried Jack, scornfully. Then enter Mr. Wood's. The Night-Cellar. This morning he heard voices—McClintock's and the Wastrel's. Below was an uninspiring street, a thoroughfare of boarding-houses and apartments. Wild," said Sheppard. It seemed to her that her father was in some inexplicable way meaner-looking than she had supposed, and yet also, as unaccountably, appealing. The loneliness of the place somewhat depressed her. Now, you know where he is bound.
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