She isn't used to cities. I was sitting up, lamenting your departure, dear Thames, when, hearing an odd noise, I went to the landing, and, by the light of a dark lantern, saw Jack Sheppard, stealing up stairs, followed by two men with crape on their faces. And here he was, but a hundred yards away, this wastrel who trailed his genius through the mud. Little more’n a week. ’ ‘Must we talk of it? I’m trying to forget it.
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