Jack Sheppard is to me what Thames Darrell is to you—an object of hatred. A sarcastic smile seemed to play upon the chief-taker's lips; and abashed at his own irresolution, the lad went on. ” The sensation produced was gratifying enough. The Yale spirit! Ah Cum smiled whimsically. "Then you'll never know more than this," retorted Blueskin, with a grin of satisfaction;—"they're in a place of safety, where you'll never find 'em, but where somebody else will, and that before long.
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