His brain reeled. Why, Nab, you shake as if you'd got an ague?" he added, turning to the Jew, whose teeth chattered audibly. "No matter," replied Sheppard. She chose to hold her nose. Jack Sheppard is to me what Thames Darrell is to you—an object of hatred. His tone changed, becoming a little more moderate. Perhaps the boys had already faced off and he had missed it, he thought sourly. "I'll have my cot in here," said Spurlock to Ruth, "where this table is.
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