ToC That night Jack walked to Paddington, and took up his quarters at a small tavern, called the Wheat-sheaf, near the green. ‘Besides, I don’t want the men blundering in here and frightening off our spy. You will torture yourself and torture her all through life; but in the end she will pour the wine of her faith into a sound chalice. He listened to the thunder of the fall now mingling with the roar of the blast; and, driven almost frantic by what he heard and saw, he pushed with all his force against the stone.
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