A SCENE FROM THE PHOTOPLAY. The shops were lighting up into gigantic lanterns of color, the street lamps were glowing into existence, and she had lost her way. “I expected to stay with a relation, but I found that their arrangements did not allow of it. Shall we sit outside and drink a petit verre of something to give us an appetite while dinner is being prepared?” “Certainly not,” she answered. In the midst of them there was a cart with a man in it—and that man was Jack—my son Jack—they were going to hang him. "No—Sheppard?" rejoined Wild.
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