It was a pity he didn't break his neck, for he was hanged within the year. He said nothing, even though it was not raining. I felt—I felt living in a masked world. "Odd's life!" cried Gay, in astonishment; "is this slight-made stripling Jack Sheppard? Why, I expected to see a man six foot high at the least, and as broad across the shoulders as our friend Figg.
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