What can she be? The wife of a country tradesman, or a duchess? And such a meek little husband too. She passed down the stairs and into the street. He is a knight. Having now sealed his letter, Sheppard took a handkerchief, and tying it over Shotbolt's face, so as completely to conceal the features, clapped his hat upon his head, and pushed it over his brows. Luckily I’m not. She was standing there, smiling at the audience as at her friends. The afternoon had passed now into twilight. ‘I live in Kent. They had scarcely gained the adjoining cellar when Jonathan and the Jew rushed past in the direction of the vault. And now," she added, glancing contemptuously at the woollen-draper, "I'll go to Jack Sheppard. Unless it was a jewel or locket of some kind.
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