” She smiled at the thought. ‘Sit down, won’t you?’ He crossed back to Roding and said low-voiced. " "I will," replied Sheppard, dashing the glass from his hand. And now," she added, glancing contemptuously at the woollen-draper, "I'll go to Jack Sheppard. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside.
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