” She had spoken rather rapidly. " "I thought you told me that the rascal who has so long been the terror of the town —Jack Sheppard—was in custody. Folks don’t like ’em. The poor wretch, driven by desperation to the commission of a crime which her soul abhors, is no more beyond the hope of reformation than she is without the pale of mercy. But calmer thoughts quickly succeeded. You know not in what dark places my life has been cast; with what crimes it has been stained. " "Not now, my love—not now," entreated Wood.
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