’ Kimble’s widening gaze told its own tale, but still he kept his fingers on the handle of the door. She pointed across the road. Perhaps he truly meant it – perhaps there was a force within him that could withstand the hardships of existing past a mortal lifetime. She gave me an impression of a sort of patched quilt; little bits of patterned stuff coming up again and again. ’ ‘So I infer. The voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead, and the story of the immortal lovers had begun. In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END. Men do services for the love of women, and the woman who takes must pay. "Enough's as good as a feast.
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