There was a second co-respondent. Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like death!" Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,—deathlike and deep. Their soft, voluptuous bodies wove among each other to the faint notes of a lyre. Yet she held her tongue. Gerald went through all the papers in front of Gosse and that woman of his, one by one. As it was, the mob went on alternately hooting and huzzaing as the names of Wild and Sheppard were pronounced, while some individuals, bolder than the rest, thrust their faces into the coach-window, and assured Jack that he should never be taken to Tyburn.
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