Her father, her own father! She remembered now a verse from the Psalms her father had always been quoting; but now she recited it with perfect understanding. The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror. ‘Certainly I am not a nun. Both arm-chairs had been moved a little so as to face each other on either side of the fender, and in the circular glow of the green-shaded lamp there lay, conspicuously waiting, a thick bundle of blue and white papers tied with pink tape. He wanted to become a millionaire. She would never again be lonely. Some rustic hand had written upon the door "JACK SHEPPARD'S CAGE;" and upon the wall was affixed a large placard describing his person, and offering a reward for his capture. But what he could do or might do she could not imagine.
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