There was a mad musician, seemingly rapt in admiration of the notes he was extracting from a child's violin. I was in the front row, and I fancied she smiled at me. The body of Jack Sheppard, meanwhile, was borne along by that tremendous host, which rose and fell like the waves of the ocean, until it approached the termination of the Edgeware Road. When she saw however that this man was a stranger, and obviously harmless, her expression changed as though by magic. ’ ‘Pottiswick, you mean, miss?’ ‘Yes, yes.
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