Youth finds it pleasant sometimes to be melancholy. "Where am I?" she cried, passing her hand across her brow. I was sitting up, lamenting your departure, dear Thames, when, hearing an odd noise, I went to the landing, and, by the light of a dark lantern, saw Jack Sheppard, stealing up stairs, followed by two men with crape on their faces. “Why would she do that? Why does she care? That’s a waste of her time.
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