Jack Sheppard is to me what Thames Darrell is to you—an object of hatred. If we were to wait till a prig was rightfully nabbed, we might tarry till doomsday. Will you not remember what has passed between us? I have the right to take my place by your side. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. Would she ever find it? Sighing, she opened the door to the next room, and drew back the drapes. . F. She looked up, and recognized Mr. Annabel watched her with wide-open, terrified eyes.
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