"And Jack?" "Gone too," sobbed his daughter. "Oh! Sir, if you'd seen her as I've seen her, you'd not wish her a continuance of misery. I did not want anything made smooth and easy for me. " Winifred was going to say "No," but she checked herself; and, with cheeks mantling with blushes, murmured, "I wish you wouldn't tease me about Jack Sheppard. You get this queer irascible musician quite impossibly and unfortunately in love with a wealthy patroness, and then out of his brain comes THIS, a tapestry of glorious music, setting out love to lovers, lovers who love in spite of all that is wise and respectable and right. Three times she escaped. F. Jack Sheppard is to me what Thames Darrell is to you—an object of hatred.
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