Jack Sheppard is to me what Thames Darrell is to you—an object of hatred. “I loathe afternoon concerts, and——” She was really like her sister he thought, impressed for a moment by the soft brilliancy of her smile. ” “I suppose I must have thought so. . “How could I, when your sister sings now at the ‘Unusual’ every night and the name ‘Alcide’ flaunts from every placard in London?” “The likeness between us,” she said, “before I began to disfigure myself with rouge and ill-dressed hair, was remarkable. His hat was placed upon one pole, his wig on another.
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