For a moment she remained silent. ‘I don’t know what the devil you’re talking about. We, ourselves, are scarcely the same we were twelve years ago. She made a step forward. Mrs. ’ Mrs Prudence Sindlesham, a widow of several years’ standing, so she told Gerald, was a scarecrow of a female, long and lank of limb in a figure that had once been willowy. “Perhaps,” he queried, “you wish to avoid being seen about with any one—er— connected with the profession, under present circumstances. Jack Sheppard is to me what Thames Darrell is to you—an object of hatred.
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