She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience. To even presume a lustful thought about her was to ask for one’s own death. With Jack so badly injured, how would she get him home? How get herself home, now that Trodger had arrested her. A nurse came hurrying up. This farewell had been particularly distasteful to him. They always get back together. The houses on Snow Hill were thronged, like those in Old Bailey. “Have you dropped from the skies?” Sydney asked wonderingly. Casting a hasty glance, as he was about to turn an angle of the wall, at the great gates and upper windows of the prison, and perceiving no symptoms of pursuit, Jack proceeded towards the hovel at a very deliberate pace, carefully assisting his female companion over every obstacle in the road, and bearing her in his arms when, as was more than once the case, she sank from fright and exhaustion. "Master Thames Ditt—what's his blessed name?—has honesty written in his handsome phiz; but as to his companion, Jack Sheppard, I think you call him, he's a born and bred thief. If the Wastrel had not turned the instant he did, the ball would have missed him; as it was he turned directly into its path. You know nothing of life, nothing of its dangers, nothing of its possibilities. Happen what might, he could not be in a worse position. “I will take a carriage,” she said, “and fetch my things.
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