"Jack Sheppard's fingers are lime-twigs. A nurse came hurrying up. “It’s still a marvel to me that we are to be forgiven,” she said, turning. She practiced swaddling on a doll, pretending to pat the head of her imaginary infant boy. It was a moment of breathless interest to all engaged in the attempt. It would have saved me much circumlocution, and you some suspense. " "What for?" demanded the turnkey. "The worst of folly," replied Blueskin, returning to the table, and taking up a glass; "and, to put an end to it, I shall drink the health of Jack Sheppard, the housebreaker, and success to him in all his enterprises. But your role would have been to go about saying, ‘I beg your pardon’ in a reproving tone to things you understood quite well in your heart and saw no harm in. It is no fault of your own that you are not at this moment standing there with your head blown off. " "Very true," chuckled Jackson; "very true. She turned away from the doorway of the silk loom to observe.
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