Jack Sheppard is to me what Thames Darrell is to you—an object of hatred. That dress is thirty years old, if a day. ’ ‘Yes, a pretty theory, Lucy,’ Gerald said evenly, ‘but for one thing. ‘Hilary, thank God! Have you a pistol about you? Or better yet, your sword. Sheppard, and regarding her with an insolent and threatening glance. The bed was hard beyond any experience of hers, the bed-clothes coarse and insufficient, the cell at once cold and stuffy.
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