Nothing disheartened by this survey, Jack set to work upon the lock, which he attacked with all his implements;—now attempting to pick it with the nail;— now to wrench it off with the bar: but all without effect. All her protests seemed stifled before she could find words to utter them. Sheppard. Then to the Feathers, in Drury Lane. “DON’T!” she said, and wrenched her wrist from his retaining hand. So, instead, they talked of dancing and what it might mean in a human life. Ascending the stairs, and conducting them along a sombre gallery, in which Trenchard noticed that every door was painted black, and numbered, he stopped at the entrance of a chamber; and, selecting a key from the bunch at his girdle, unlocked it.
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