“And so you have been thinking?” her father began, quoting her letter and looking over his slanting glasses at her. On that morning the death warrant had arrived from Windsor, ordering Sheppard for execution, (since his capture by Jonathan Wild in Bedlam, as related in a former chapter, Jack had been tried, convicted, and sentenced to death,) together with three other malefactors on the following Friday. As soon as she noticed the stranger, she honoured him with an extremely impudent stare, and scarcely endeavoured to disguise the admiration with which his good looks impressed her. Kneebone, who began to feel sleepy, wound it up, and snuffed the candles. He rambled in an unfortunate monotone, the result of his innate fear of public speaking. She pulled her chair with a mild creak and marched towards the stair. ‘May I, indeed? I’ll take you up on that. —Sorry to quit your lord—worships, I mean,—I don't know what I mean," she added, a little confused, and dropping a profound curtsey to the disguised noblemen, each of whom replied by a bow, worthy, in her opinion, of a prince of the blood at the least,—"but I've a few necessary orders to give below. “Nothing so base.
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