Sir John gave his order, deliberately stumbling now and then over a word, and anglicizing others. Lucy looked at her with a small measure of pity. “David,” she said, “you are not a coward, are you?” “I do not know,” he muttered. Sniveling brats, little fatherless bastards, you should breathe a sigh of relief. How Jack Sheppard was again captured. Spurling bit her lips to conceal her mirth. From the opposite corner under the trees a man with his hat slouched over his eyes stood and glowered at them. But about dat jonker," he continued, lowering his voice; "have you anything to add consarnin' him? It's almosht a pity to put him onder de water. I'm no great judge of these articles, Ma'am; but I trust to your honour not to palm off paste upon me. Sheppard despairingly. I swear it.
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