" "What for?" demanded the turnkey. I suppose we’re all human beings really, but what price the sacred Institution of the Family! Us as a bundle! Eh?. Not a word was uttered by the assemblage; but a hush of expectation reigned throughout. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. In those revolutionary times one had to be prepared. ‘You are really not helping matters, my friend. I want to be myself. There is only Gerald to see me, after all. Jack Sheppard is now wholly in my hands.
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