The last thing that she remembered was her eyes crossing as she tried to focus upon the crunch of leaves as she lay heaving upon them, dampening them further with the outpouring of her sweat as it leaked from her clothing. Sheppard, who had again looked round towards her son, beheld a hand glance along the side of the woollendraper. 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. There's something human about you now. If Ray left the house, it would be easy.
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