The noose was at its throat when I called for help. He smothered a laugh. Arrived there, their first object was to seek out Davies, by whom they were conducted to the lady's retreat,—a lone habitation, situated on the outskirts of Saint George's Fields in Southwark. It was a moment or two before Gerald, opening his eyes on the girl’s astounded expression, recollected himself sufficiently to pull out of the extraordinary impact she’d had on him. Nevertheless, relief washed over her, her body rejoicing in the afterglow of twenty years of tension released. “You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently. End of Project Gutenberg's Jack Sheppard, by William Harrison Ainsworth *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JACK SHEPPARD *** ***** This file should be named 16215-h. \" \"It's okay. ‘Dare I suppose that to be of her making?’ Gerald flushed. Blueskin therefore had nothing to stop him. When next he asked for her, some twelve hours later, he was told that Mademoiselle had left. .
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