"By my soul," said the sexton, "that's as like Jack Sheppard as any one I ever seed i' my born days. ” “Oh!” he said, in a colorless tone, and with his eyes on her face. She meant to leave anyway, or so she would tell herself later. In this moment he could have stamped upon the Wastrel's face, and ended the affair; but all that was clean in him, chivalrous, revolted at the thought. Let me lie in Willesden churchyard.
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