"The end is the most beautiful in English literature. Her back had stiffened, and her hazel eyes looked steadfastly ahead. ‘Lord,’ Gerald uttered, his inexplicable annoyance evaporating. Sheppard made an effort to speak, but her voice was choked by emotion. "All's bowman, my covey. Sheppard broke from him, and filled the room with her shrieks. ‘You speak as if you expected to meet her again, Gerald. Jack will be tried to-morrow; and, as sure as my name's Obadiah Lemon he'll take up his quarters at the King's-Head," pointing to Newgate, "over the way. Satisfied with his scrutiny, he produced a pocket-flask, and taking off the silver cup with which it was mounted, filled it with the contents of the flask, and then seizing the thin arm of the sleeper, rudely shook it. The dress came to her only too manifestly unwashed from its former wearer; even the under-linen they gave her seemed unclean.
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