He hated travelling second-class with her—indeed, he never did—but he also disliked travelling in the same train when his daughter was in an inferior class, because of the look of the thing. From this sorrowful state he was aroused by a loud derisive whistle, followed by a still louder laugh; and, looking up, he beheld the impudent countenance of Jack Sheppard immediately before him. She formed a wild resolution, and, lest she should waver from it, she set about at once to realize it. ’ He clenched his fists and grew red in the face. Give me the chisel, Blueskin.
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