’ ‘Alone, miss?’ ‘Certainly alone. Jack Sheppard is to me what Thames Darrell is to you—an object of hatred. She mentally resolved to do her best to avoid personal encounters with him in that instant. “You will not even answer my letters. From head to foot he was attired in the fashionable garb of the young man of the moment. "Well, he won't do that here. To be sure," he added, lowering his tone, "they wos little 'uns, and one on 'em was smothered—ough! ough!—how this cough chokes me!" Sheppard, meanwhile, whose hands were at liberty, managed to possess himself, unperceived, of the spike of a halbert, which was lying, apart from the pole, upon a bench near him. He did not like it.
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