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FOREWORD Forever Fifteen was born of a dream I had in 2002, a dream that was part nightmare. "The warrant for his execution is arrived. “Have to take your turn,” he remarked laconically. Ireton," observed the chief turnkey of Westminster Gatehouse, as he helped himself to his third glass of punch; "but I never saw one like Jack Sheppard. He grew even harder. Evidently in the flower of his age, he was scarcely less remarkable for symmetry of person than for comeliness of feature; and, though his attire was plain and unpretending, it was such as could be worn only by one belonging to the higher ranks of society. This too shall pass.
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