” He dropped his eye-glass with a clatter. I’ve—dreads. . There haven't been so many ladies in the Lodge since the days of Claude Du Val, the gentleman highwayman; and they all declare it'll break their hearts if he's scragged. Her fancy dress, save for the green-gray stockings, the pseudo-Turkish slippers, and baggy silk trousered ends natural to a Corsair’s bride, was hidden in a large black-silk-hooded operacloak. Jack Sheppard is now wholly in my hands. “What year was 221 that, about 1350?” He asked in wonderment. " "I thought you told me that the rascal who has so long been the terror of the town —Jack Sheppard—was in custody. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory. It would have been very well if she had been some common creature who might have been bought off.
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