She thought me— filthy. On Thursday, the 12th of November, after having endured nearly a month's imprisonment, Jack Sheppard was conveyed from Newgate to Westminster Hall. It really isn’t so easy to go as it seems. Altogether, it was a hideous and revolting sight. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. She descended the stairs, and found herself at last in the street—alone. There she sought and at last found 107A, one of those heterogeneous piles of offices which occupy the eastern side of the lane.
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