In fact, the reflection of the flames lighted up the ward in which Jack Sheppard was confined. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. Don’t take revenge on him because I’ve wronged you. Your poor cheeks are quite sunken and hollow. You called her a wanton!" "Because I had every reason to believe she was one. “Are you A, B, C, or D?” he asked.
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