"Jack Sheppard's fingers are lime-twigs. " "Give me the brandy, and I'll tell you," replied Wood. A cry was then raised by the leaders to attack Wild's house, and the fury of the mob was instantly directed to that quarter. The smells of skewered fennel, roast chicken, and broiled pheasant saturated the air, and she could smell other wonderful aromas about them. “Then—then we can talk things out.
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