“What do you mean, hanging round with my wife?” he answered fiercely. "By my soul," said the sexton, "that's as like Jack Sheppard as any one I ever seed i' my born days. But they were too late. But oh, how weary I am! I know. She hid behind a mirage of piety, just as I do. You did not complain then that I personated you—no, nor when Sir John came to me in Paris, and for your sake I lied. " "Won't my life do as well as his?" supplicated the other.
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