"Rowland, your violence is killing me," she returned, in a plaintive tone. He glanced up at the coachman. When first brought under consideration, she was a miserable and forlorn object; squalid in attire, haggard in looks, and emaciated in frame. From this sorrowful state he was aroused by a loud derisive whistle, followed by a still louder laugh; and, looking up, he beheld the impudent countenance of Jack Sheppard immediately before him. An astonished Jack Kimble was revealed in the aperture. “Have you any money?” “Lots,” Anna answered laconically.
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