It's fortunate we've no more Jack Sheppards, or I should stand but a poor chance. I took him out of the hands of death. It was the very spot from which his poor mother had gazed after her vain attempt to rescue him at the Mint; but, though he was ignorant of this, her image was alone present to him. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. “See you. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. Master and missis have been talking all day long about Jack Sheppard, and I'm dying to read his life.
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This video was uploaded to afrikaexpress.info on 24-06-2024 20:46:32
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