‘Though we might have done, if a certain addlepated clothhead hadn’t let her get away. But if I were dying of thirst, in a desert, I would not accept a cup of water at her hands. Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. I have something that weighs heavily upon my mind. "Come to buy off Jack Sheppard, I suppose," replied the fellow.
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