In fact, the reflection of the flames lighted up the ward in which Jack Sheppard was confined. “Dear me!” he said. "In Heaven's name! what's all this?" cried Wood. The arm about her was steel hard, and she felt the weapon that was placed at her heart, which thumped uncomfortably in her chest. The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes. No matter how often she came across this phase in love stories, there was never anything explanatory: as if all human beings perfectly understood. But his grief was of short duration. ‘Who kills who?’ ‘Rot in hell,’ he snarled, panting, and managed to push himself forward and leap off the dais, running for the safety of the far aisle by the wall. Sheppard.
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