Very dark, like yours, ma’am. ToC In consequence of Jack Sheppard's desperate character, it was judged expedient by the keeper of the New Prison to load him with fetters of unusual weight, and to place him in a cell which, from its strength and security, was called the Newgate Ward. One never knew when it would be necessary to resume her disguise. “She’s my wife,” the man muttered. He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so. They found Ruth reading to Spurlock, whose shoulders and head were propped by pillows. Horrible details recurred to her. He understood.
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