And so is your companion,—the convict Sheppard. He was a handsome man, and Lucy could see the strong resemblance of John to him. “I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen. "Bless your soul! d'ye think I'm to be gammoned by such nonsense. He was always anticipating, stepping into the future, torturing himself with non-existent troubles. He said nothing.
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