How Jack Sheppard's Portrait was painted. Behind them stalked Blueskin, enveloped in a rough great-coat, called—appropriately enough in this instance,—a wrap-rascal. Not far from him was a knot of lads drinking, swearing, and playing at dice as eagerly and as skilfully as any of the older hands. She gurgled. Stanley, standing up with a sudden geniality and rubbing his hands together. Catch him, she begged silently.
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