In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END. He had scarcely completed his toilet, when he was startled by a noise at the door, and heard his own name pronounced in no friendly accents. \" \"Wow. He looked at her reproachfully. ” “No,” he said, and tried again: “but I must tell you quite definitely that I feel it to be my duty to forbid any such exploit. Women are not in the world in the same sense that men are—fighting individuals in a scramble. "What has become of Jack Sheppard?" "Devil knows!" answered Quilt; "but I believe he's in the hands of Blueskin, so there's no doubt he'll soon be on the high-road to Tyburn. A cold shiver ran through her frame, and her gentle spirit passed away for ever.
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