. ’ ‘For shame, Hilary,’ admonished his fiancée, casting a pitying glance at the refugees. The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees. " "No—no," laughed Jack. Recovering himself quickly his instinct of self-defence was quicker than his recollection of Anna’s presence. "From that door," continued the thief-taker, pointing to the gloomy portal of the prison opposite which they were standing, "the condemned are taken to Tyburn.
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