ToC In a hollow in the meadows behind the prison whence Jack Sheppard had escaped,—for, at this time, the whole of the now thickly-peopled district north of Clerkenwell Bridewell was open country, stretching out in fertile fields in the direction of Islington—and about a quarter of a mile off, stood a solitary hovel, known as Black Mary's Hole. She herself, and one other there, recognized the interposition of something akin to tragedy. ‘Not kill me, I mean. Auntie has taken the nails out of my palms, but the scars will always be there. They then took off their boots, and crept stealthily up stairs, treading upon the point of their toes so cautiously, that not a board creaked beneath their weight. ” “It’s so strange to think of you—troubled by such things. With some difficulty he contrived to raise her to the window, and with still greater difficulty to squeeze her through it—her bulk being much greater than his own.
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