Edward Bribble stood between them with an open book. “You must tell me the truth, please. “You told me that in the Zoological Gardens. Good riddance to bad rubbish. In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END. “But it is so difficult——” “Not at all,” he answered eagerly. They walked in silence. Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. “You could have told me about it, Michelle. Proof? There is someone who might be willing to help.
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