How Jack Sheppard attended his Mother's Funeral 435 XXVII. I want you to understand clearly that I was indebted to the man in many small ways. She waited a few minutes, then greeted the burly doorman who stood as the building’s lone sentry. But then—Oh! Madam, there are moments—moments of darkness, which overshadow a whole existence—in the lives of the poor houseless wretches who traverse the streets, when reason is well-nigh benighted; when the horrible promptings of despair can, alone, be listened to; and when vice itself assumes the aspect of virtue. He was ruffled, and his ears were red, no doubt from some adjacent controversy. He did not think of her as a killer, he could barely conceive it. ‘If you had told him that I would rather die than see him, he would not have come. A stout female stood in the aperture, an oil lamp in her hand. Pottiswick’s daughter found her tongue. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. "I will have it now," rejoined Trenchard, "or our agreement is void. Don't be afraid—I won't hurt you. It is a very good English name, no? But who is she?’ ‘Mrs Sindlesham, I should say,’ said Mrs Ibstock, correcting herself. I am going to ask him to finish it.
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