“This is mere nonsense, mere tongue-tied fear!” she said. Jack did not advance to meet her. He was content to talk about himself, though in the back of his clever mind he already suspected that she was not offering any details about her life. He was asleep when Jonathan entered, and growled at being disturbed. The cell in which she was confined was about six feet long and four wide; the walls were scored all over with fantastic designs, snatches of poetry, short sentences and names,—the work of its former occupants, and of its present inmate. "Jack Sheppard failed! I'd not believe it, if any one but himself told me so. No matter what the fire and force of his passion, it falters eventually, and forever after smoulders or goes out.
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