' Jack Sheppard's library consisted of a few ragged and well-thumbed volumes abstracted from the tremendous chronicles bequeathed to the world by those Froissarts and Holinsheds of crime —the Ordinaries of Newgate. "Jack," exclaimed the widow, starting up and drawing back the curtain. I—well, I lost my temper. “You have the ideas. " "Peace!" retorted Jack, with increased bitterness. —Strype's Stow. Think! Had you not better hurry back before Sir John discovers? You are his wife right enough. She rode him gently. Ennison better than I have ever told you,” she said slowly. The Chinamen raised the limp body and carried it to the hall staircase, up which they mounted laboriously.
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