Sheppard, eagerly. “I say!” he said, without any movement. The owner of this dress had a broad weather-beaten face, small twinkling eyes, and a bushy, grizzled beard. It seemed that within an instant the Pestilence struck, and she begged me on her deathbed to shelter you and her grandson for the rest of your lives, as she could see that even though I was a ‘demon fiend’ and ‘minor devil’ that I loved you. Jack Sheppard's Escape from the New Prison.
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