It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. If only this child were his: what good times they would have together! The thought passed on, but it left a little ache in his heart. He touched it again, and this time it was not withdrawn. Jack now carefully closed the shutters, while Blueskin struck a light, with which he set fire to a candle. “I have not left this apartment myself. . ToC In a hollow in the meadows behind the prison whence Jack Sheppard had escaped,—for, at this time, the whole of the now thickly-peopled district north of Clerkenwell Bridewell was open country, stretching out in fertile fields in the direction of Islington—and about a quarter of a mile off, stood a solitary hovel, known as Black Mary's Hole. Afterward, one afternoon, he hovered about her, and came and sat beside her and talked of beauty and the riddle of beauty for some time. I was afraid you wouldn't talk to me--you seem kind of shy--but I figured maybe I could still talk you into joining our study group, it goes all year.
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