The Pursuit 425 XXV. My death, probably. Having now sealed his letter, Sheppard took a handkerchief, and tying it over Shotbolt's face, so as completely to conceal the features, clapped his hat upon his head, and pushed it over his brows. "Can I help you, Jack?" asked Thames, taking up a plane. But she could tell by the dullness of his eyes that he saw only some inner vision.
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