1. ToC In a hollow in the meadows behind the prison whence Jack Sheppard had escaped,—for, at this time, the whole of the now thickly-peopled district north of Clerkenwell Bridewell was open country, stretching out in fertile fields in the direction of Islington—and about a quarter of a mile off, stood a solitary hovel, known as Black Mary's Hole. A pane of glass was shivered by each stone. I couldn’t rest or eat or sleep. Curiosity held her by one hand, urging her to recklessness, and caution held her by the other. Supposing the wire should break and her head tumble off her shoulders into the street? The whimsey caused another smile to ripple across her lips. Sometimes when adrenaline rushes through a body. These daughters! He gnawed his pen and reflected, tore the sheet up, and began again.
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