" "To-morrow will be too late," said Sheppard, moodily. I didn’t know that you had it that bad,” said John. Then as she lay very still, with her hands clinched and her black hair tumbled about her face, he came still closer and softly kissed the nape of her neck. Men and women are not established things; they’re experiments, all of them. But a far greater affliction was in store for her. On that morning the death warrant had arrived from Windsor, ordering Sheppard for execution, (since his capture by Jonathan Wild in Bedlam, as related in a former chapter, Jack had been tried, convicted, and sentenced to death,) together with three other malefactors on the following Friday. She should be lifted out of her narrow little life, and it should be all owing to him.
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