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’ ‘That’s odd. No sooner had Trenchard crossed the threshold than a fierce barking was heard at the farther extremity of the passage, and, the next moment, a couple of mastiffs of the largest size rushed furiously towards him. "Is this Jack Sheppard? Oh, la! I'm undone! We shall all have our throats cut! Oh! oh!" And she rushed, screaming, into the passage where she fell down in a fit. No matter what the fire and force of his passion, it falters eventually, and forever after smoulders or goes out. She had been obliged to wait all morning for the opportunity to talk to Martha, who chose always to retire to her cell for the period of recreation that preceded afternoon prayers. She dared not look directly at him, her head obscured by a gray hoodie, she had the slumped appearance of an androgynous adolescent.
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