C. You make me angry, and I lie. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. "Well, Jack," he said, after a pause, "are you disposed to go back quietly with me?" "You'll ascertain that when you attempt to touch me," rejoined Sheppard, resolutely. “Unless you have an appointment, which you haven’t,” he said, “you’ll only waste your time here. Her aunt arrived about halfpast ten, in black and with an unusually thick spotted veil. Presently she became aware of footsteps hurrying after her, and glanced back to find Miss Klegg, a little out of breath, in pursuit.
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