"At the Black Lion in our street," replied Jack, without hesitation. But if you wouldn't have me positively dislike Jack Sheppard, you'll never mention such a subject again. He uttered one word over and over, monotonously: "Fool! … Fool!" But invariably the touch of Ruth's hand quieted him, and his head would cease to roll from side to side. I knew it. Fire; she was full of it.
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