But at this point he was still subservient, still outwardly humble, in spite of the blackhearted villainy that was even then burgeoning in his breast. ‘Monsieur Charvill thought perhaps that his daughter would find not a welcome. "Jack Sheppard's mother," answered the little girl, dejectedly; "she has brought a basket of eggs from Willesden, and some flowers for you. ‘Sir?’ enquired the lad.
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