Pitt?" "There is no mistake, Sir," rejoined the prisoner, drawing himself up, "I am Jack Sheppard. Would you mind?" She wanted another kiss, but she did not know how to go about it; so she satisfied the hunger by pressing his hands to her thundering heart. Close behind him stood the tall gaunt figure of Marvel, with his large bony hands, his scraggy neck, and ill-favoured countenance. By and by he ventured to peer into this window. She felt pride sashay into her thoughts.
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