Passing at a glance over the whole of the intervening period; leaving in the words of the poet, —The growth untried Of that wide gap— we shall resume our narrative at the beginning of June, 1715. Jack Sheppard is to me what Thames Darrell is to you—an object of hatred. “I wonder—I wonder if we shall ever get like that. He walked unsteadily towards the door. "He will be murdered!—Help!" "My child!—my love!" cried Wood, dragging her forcibly back. He went in and leaned, panting, against one wall.
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