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The lady murmured briefly to her husband, and then tucked her hand into Alderley’s arm. In fact, the reflection of the flames lighted up the ward in which Jack Sheppard was confined. Somebody to depend upon her; somebody to have need of her, if only for a little while. "She's glorious!" He knew that he must hoodwink this keeneyed Scot, even as he must hoodwink everybody: publicly, the devoted husband; privately, the celibate. "What's that you're saying about Jack Sheppard?" she cried. ‘Come,’ she called. He had been reading Belfort Bax, and declared himself a convert. This whole affair is truly my fault. On the Day he had trumpet-like outbreaks of cordiality, varied by a watchful preoccupation.
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