“A thick-set, coarse-looking young man, Anna!” she exclaimed in a hoarse excited whisper. ‘I’m not going to arrest you, young Jack—yet. But you—you have a good face. Jack Sheppard is to me what Thames Darrell is to you—an object of hatred. Wood's daughter,—to whom, I've heard tell, he was attached years ago,—was brought up, his courage forsook him altogether, and he trembled, and could scarcely stand. I was afraid that I might be called upon as a witness. "I'll cut down him who opposes me. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. A black-garbed young lad leapt out and let down the steps. Here your nephew will speedily be thrown. My son went down after his death.
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