It’s kind of the World War II thing. CHAPTER XVIII The doctor reached for the key and studied it sombrely. M. Most of the horses were dead, all but three stallions and two mares left among what was once a thriving stable. "Odd's life!" cried Gay, in astonishment; "is this slight-made stripling Jack Sheppard? Why, I expected to see a man six foot high at the least, and as broad across the shoulders as our friend Figg. ‘He’d have been that happy if he’d known how you’re the spit of her, miss.
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