" Jack Sheppard again sought his pistol, and was only withheld from levelling it at the thief-taker's head, by the hope that he might gather some further information respecting his mother. “I will take my chance. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. “We’ll go to a place where we can have a private room,” he said. Somebody tricked you back yonder—baited you for spite. Her mouth was once more covered as they left the second floor guest saloon and headed for the back stairs. She slept in a bedroom clad in linens and skins, walked down hallways bedecked in the most gay and colorful frescos. "What a wonderful colour!" she exclaimed. His perception of her personal beauty deepened and quickened with each encounter.
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