Lucy could see her striding down a Parisian catwalk quite easily. . ’ ‘Fancy my old pa thinking you was a French spy. ‘Oh, peste. I would not think so of you, Marthe. The figure of the girl upon it in plain black dress, standing with her hands behind her, was an undeniable and astonishing likeness of herself. The turnkey looked round the next moment, but the manoeuvre escaped his observation. “Was it terrible for you after he died?” “Don’t worry yourself about it John. He had changed her life dramatically, and she had missed him dreadfully. Ever since he's become so famous, the folks about here ha' christened it Jack Sheppard's cage.
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