" "And, so Jack Sheppard has sent back Shotbolt in this pickle," said Langley. His pulses beat fast as he walked, his feet fell lightly upon the pavement. He would condemn her to the vengeance of the mob all for refusing to marry him. When I have traversed the streets a houseless wanderer, driven with curses from every door where I have solicited alms, and with blows from every gateway where I have sought shelter,—when I have crept into some deserted building, and stretched my wearied limbs upon a bulk, in the vain hope of repose,—or, worse than all, when, frenzied with want, I have yielded to horrible temptation, and earned a meal in the only way I could earn one,—when I have felt, at times like these, my heart sink within me, I have drank of this drink, and have at once forgotten my cares, my poverty, my guilt. ‘Yes, very rude,’ agreed the major. "Good-bye, young man; and good luck.
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