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“Are you sorry you waited, aunt?” she said. No doubt that was due to his helplessness. Jack Sheppard is the talk and terror of the whole town. Darting forward at this sound, Jack threw open the door, and beheld Quilt kneeling over Thames, who'se hands and feet were bound with cords, and about to plunge his sword into his breast. The present divinity of the cellar was a comely middle-aged dame, almost as stout, and quite as shrill-voiced, as the Billingsgate fish-wives above-mentioned, Mrs. Nor, indeed, did she want to refuse. Nature is God, Anna, and the greatest artist of us all a pigmy.
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