What of Gosse, whom those soldiers had allowed to escape? Hiding—or perhaps gone. As they left Florence, dying men and women still scrabbled through the streets, screams emanating from the rows of houses, beggars running up to the horses, sick children in their arms, their eyes bleeding, their noses running, begging to join them in their journey out. She moved then, fast, taking refuge behind a Chinese screen that was set beside the four-poster at the back of the room. "Here's the full, true, and particular account of Jack Sheppard's last astonishing and never-to-be-forgotten escape from the Castle of Newgate," bawled the hawker, "with a print of him taken from the life, showing the manner, how he was shackled and handcuffed. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. I'll turn cracksman, like my father—rob old Wood—he has chests full of money, and I know where they're kept—I'll rob him, and give the swag to you, Poll—I'll—" Jack would have said more; but, losing his balance, he fell to the ground, and, when taken up, he was perfectly insensible. Perceiving he was about to take leave, Kneebone ventured to ask whom he had had the honour of addressing. “My child, I do not wish. I said I’d make shirts. They were enormously pleased with one another; they found each other beyond measure better than they had expected, if only because of the want of substance in mere expectation.
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