“I mean to go to that dance! I meant to reason with you, but you won’t reason. "Why, Jack Sheppard, the notorious house-breaker,—him as has robbed half Lunnun, to be sure. "You will be wanting your broth, Hoddy," she said. Sheppard's habitation terminated a row of old ruinous buildings, called Wheeler's Rents; a dirty thoroughfare, part street, and part lane, running from Mint Street, through a variety of turnings, and along the brink of a deep kennel, skirted by a number of petty and neglected gardens in the direction of Saint George's Fields. “Have you ever seen Annabel with him?” she asked. It was a face that matched her body, so pure and beautiful that any man would have killed for her. “She’s my wife,” the man muttered. In the general survey of the prison, taken in the preceding chapter, but little was said of the Lodge.
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