If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically. The poor old imbecile! Why, this child was a firebrand, a wrecker, if ever he had seen one; and the worst kind because she was unconscious of her gifts. Sheppard reached the debtor's garrison. Washed in light from the vestry window, she held her ground, all thought at bay, bar the steel determination long ago instilled in her by her unconventional tutor. His eyes never left her face. How Jack Sheppard broke out of the Cage at Willesden XIX.
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