So you are Prudence Remenham. Indignation carried her through that night, that men and the world could so entreat her. Sheppard, passing her hand across her brow; "but my memory is gone—quite gone. I have established a fine trade. She was fine and tender. Jack Sheppard is a match for Jonathan Wild, any day. ‘Cajolery? This is not your style. "Heaven help us!" he exclaimed; "we were mad to neglect the old sailor's advice. Sheppard found it; and, as no one opposed her, she at once took up her abode there; nor was she long in discovering that the dreaded sounds proceeded from the nocturnal gambols of a legion of rats. The place was pockmarked with window-like holes everywhere—people were always 138 falling into them and breaking bones--it was for these lookouts why she had chosen it.
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