’ Mrs Sindlesham abruptly sat up straighter in her chair. F. " She kindled with sympathy. It wasn’t so much women as Woman that engaged his mind. "It is Sheppard—Jack Sheppard—stop him!" And his shouts were reiterated by the pack of bloodhounds at his heels. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. She went to market every day to fetch the daily bread and more herbs for more medicines and potions, plus treats for the apprentices made of honey and almond paste. Surely it was a dream.
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