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She posed herself before her mirror and surveyed herself with gravely thoughtful, gravely critical, and yet admiring eyes. It was only a matter of time. In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END. She found she could do her microscope work all the better for being in love. While the strife raged between the principals, the watermen in the larger wherry were occupied in stemming the force of the torrent, and endeavouring to keep the boats, they had lashed together, stationary.
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