” He said flatly. Jack Sheppard is to me what Thames Darrell is to you—an object of hatred. You may enjoy your pride, your arrogance—in a coffin. To go to him, to console him! But she stirred not from her hiding place. He pulled down a chair to her left. ’ ‘That is what you think? Let us try!’ ‘Don’t be idiotic!’ She was backing from him, reaching through one of the slits she had carefully manufactured in her petticoat.
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