"I could almost find in my heart to quarrel with Jack Sheppard for occasioning you so much pain," observed little Winifred Wood, as, having completed her ministration to the best of her ability, she helped Thames on with his coat. "Let us in," said the Master, rapping his truncheon authoritatively against the boards, "or we'll force an entrance. Gerald, intent on his trail, ignored it. "Put it in your teeth and light it. "Every brick I take out," cried Jack, as fresh rubbish clattered down the chimney, "brings me nearer my mother. 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.
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