That’s all about it. And I’ve read, and thought, and guessed, and looked—until MY innocence—it’s smirched. Passing at a glance over the whole of the intervening period; leaving in the words of the poet, —The growth untried Of that wide gap— we shall resume our narrative at the beginning of June, 1715. ’ ‘A pretty tale. ” Lucy cried, drawing attention from the somber crowd. She broke this promise when she told me that my mother was this Mary, and not Suzanne Valade at all. Jack Sheppard is to me what Thames Darrell is to you—an object of hatred.
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