After a brief conversation, which Sheppard sustained with his accustomed liveliness, the old man turned to Bess and addressed a few words of common-place gallantry to her. “Does he live here?” he asked her presently. "Don't touch me. Steeples toppled, and towers reeled beneath its fury. The Procession to Tyburn. How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music. " "Vouldn't it!" replied Jack, mimicking his snuffling voice; "then shtay vere you are, and be cursed to you. "I shan't sleep a wink while Jack Sheppard's in the house.
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