"I've done nothing to offend you," persisted Jack. But that doesn’t alter the fact that there IS innocence. Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told. John’s father brought down a violin from a high closet shelf. And, then, forsooth, she must needs prevent your hanging Jack Sheppard after the robbery in Wych Street, when you might have done so. Let us be gone. "The worst house in the neighbourhood—the constant haunt of reprobates and thieves," groaned Wood. Montressor’s guests were. It engulfed them in black, white, and gray. It reverberated in the silence. A tinge of admiration rose in his breast.
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