" On the appearance of his visitors, Sheppard arose,—his gyves clanking heavily as he made the movement,—and folding his arms, so far as his manacles would permit him, upon his breast, steadily returned the glances fixed upon him. "Is it gold?" "Pure gold," replied Kneebone. I was his wife. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. In the heart of the jungle the dog had his private muck baths.
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