To surrender himself to the law, to face trial and imprisonment, was out of the question. "What do you want?" he asked, in a gruff voice. Jack Sheppard is to me what Thames Darrell is to you—an object of hatred. As he proceeded, other painful reminiscences were aroused. “Tell me his name,” he said, “and I promise that he shall never trouble you. “But was it wise to sing to-night?” “Why not? The man was nothing to me. The faithful fellow will never leave me. She had agonized over it for weeks. .
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