"Rot, weren't they?" "No. ” She laid her fingers upon his arm, and they both stood still. "What's that you're saying about Jack Sheppard?" she cried. "Ay, murder him, if you like the term," returned Wild. ’ ‘Oh, have you?’ grunted Gerald, surprising in himself a surge of some odd emotion at these words. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love.
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