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. From long experience with both races he had acquired definitions, but none snugly applied to this girl. " "Never count your chickens till they're hatched," observed Mrs. “Sir John of course disapproves of me,” she remarked slowly. And, though the villain can't see his orders executed, I've no doubt some one else will.
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