Ireton," observed the chief turnkey of Westminster Gatehouse, as he helped himself to his third glass of punch; "but I never saw one like Jack Sheppard. “I know that our social order is dreadful enough,” he said, “and sacrifices all that is best and most beautiful in life. Silence! Then Anna clutched her companion’s arm. She had slapped him away with her free hand and the finger was released suddenly, sending her careening to the floor.
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