Sheppard, with startling eagerness. “I thought you wanted to have a talk to me,” she said. My name is Wild— Jonathan Wild. I’m not mad that he has eyes for you instead of me, not mad at all. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her.
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