He looked at her reproachfully. ” “It is my wish to be alone,” she said wearily. “It is so difficult,” she murmured, “so impossible to explain. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. Suspending his labour on Jack's appearance, the man demanded his business. It was a sort of cooking-room, with an immense fire-place flanked by a couple of cauldrons, and was called Jack Ketch's Kitchen, because the quarters of persons executed for treason were there boiled by the hangman in oil, pitch, and tar, before they were affixed on the city gates, or on London Bridge.
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