She was carefree. Each arm of the blouse had the faintest of rings around the elbow, a stain that looked familiar. "May I be cursed," muttered Sheppard, as he slunk away with (as the woollendraper pleasantly observed) 'a couple of boxes in charge,' "if ever I try to be honest again!" "Take a little toasted cheese with the swig, Mr. Take me to the Stone Room. How clever she was, to fool everybody so easily! Not yet had any one suspected the truth: that she was, in a certain worldly sense, only four weeks old, that her every act had been written down on paper beforehand, and that her success lay in rigidly observing the rules which she herself had drafted to govern her conduct. You, Jack Sheppard, have nothing to fear, as you've become evidence against your accomplice.
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