At the back of the house, on a bank, rose an old-fashioned terrace-garden, full of apple-trees and other fruittrees in blossom, and lively with the delicious verdure of early spring. Keeping hold of the doorhandle, she turned slowly. “What can one say?” she exclaimed. “That cannot happen!” She replied, feeling her world start to disintegrate underneath her feet. Brendon. Shotbolt that if he, or any other person, takes Jack Sheppard before to-morrow morning, I'll double it.
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