If Jack Sheppard could behold his mother in this state, he'd have a lesson he'd never forget—ay, and a severer one than even the hangman could read him. She took the tray with both hands, gulped, and gave way to tears. He did not notice that Ann Veronica was preoccupied and heavy-eyed. It is to take place to-night. "He's not my son," rejoined the carpenter. .
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