The picturesque scoundrel had the true gift; and Spurlock was filled with pity at the thought of such genius gone to pot. “Dear friend,” she said, “this is a matter which you must leave to me to do as I think best. ‘God loves you, even if your father didn’t. It's precisely the same thing to me to bid my janizaries cut Thames Darrell's throat, as to order Jack Sheppard's execution. If we were to wait till a prig was rightfully nabbed, we might tarry till doomsday. They were the same. ” He passed his hand wearily over his forehead.
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