Sheppard, if you please, Ma'am," interrupted the lad; "I allow nobody to call me Jack. Gay, the poet, who wrote the 'Captives,' which was lately acted at Drury Lane, and was so much admired by the Princess of Wales. Believe me, it will be better by far that you should consent to marry me. ’ Melusine shrugged, and crossed to the plain door beside which hung a bell. At length Jack Sheppard observed:—"The coast's clear. Promise me that you will not disobey the injunctions of her whose memory we must both of us ever revere. "Ruth?" Silence for a moment. Perhaps because I don’t know.
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