' Jack Sheppard's library consisted of a few ragged and well-thumbed volumes abstracted from the tremendous chronicles bequeathed to the world by those Froissarts and Holinsheds of crime —the Ordinaries of Newgate. She knew now that he never would. Not like my father. "Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, folding her to his breast. I'm a poor nurse.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 27-09-2024 00:13:58