I said to myself, ‘this will come. Without inquiring into the correctness of the latter part of the story, it may be sufficient to state, that Black Mary was a person in whom Jack Sheppard thought he could confide, and, as Edgeworth Bess was incapable of much further exertion, he determined to leave her in the old woman's care till the following night, while he shifted for himself and fulfilled his design—for, however rash or hazardous a project might be, if once conceived, Jack always executed it,—of visiting Jonathan Wild at his house in the Old Bailey. "This gash," he added, pointing to one of the larger scars, "was a wipe from the hanger of Tom Thurland, whom I apprehended for the murder of Mrs. Manning, with a sweep of the arm. Playing with one hand he turned on his stool to glance at her. Nice position. I wouldn't allow you to be honest even if you could be so,—which I doubt. She looked in the glass over and over as she checked for lint and makeup streaks. From the white beach the palms ran in serried rows quarter of a mile inland, then began a jungle of bamboo, gum-tree, sandalwood, plantain, huge fern, and choking grasses. Hugging him in the beautiful dress in front of the teenagers was strangely soothing to her. This was his sister, evidently in the last extremity. "Does your father doubt it? Speak! tell me!" Winifred made no answer. In a second the glass lay shattered upon the carpet.
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