“We settled long ago—we’re hard stuff. If Jack Sheppard could behold his mother in this state, he'd have a lesson he'd never forget—ay, and a severer one than even the hangman could read him. “Everything very nice, I am sure,” Miss Stanley murmured to Capes as he steered her to a place upon the little sofa before the fire. Then to Martin's brandy-shop, in Fleet Street. Why? Here was a curtain indeed. Since Mary predeceased Jarvis, Nicholas could scarcely argue himself to be my brother’s next of kin.
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