‘Here you, Pottiswick. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. On an empty cask, which served him for a chair, and opposite Jack Sheppard, whose rapid progress in depravity afforded him the highest satisfaction, sat Blueskin, encouraging the two women in their odious task, and plying his victim with the glass as often as he deemed it expedient to do so. “You underestimate your own sickness, and the ill humors that struck you may strike again. The day was unseasonably humid and dark, a thick fog having descended over manicured lawns.
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