ToC That night Jack walked to Paddington, and took up his quarters at a small tavern, called the Wheat-sheaf, near the green. Even in her painting smock and with her disarranged hair, the likeness between the two girls was marvellous. "Tell me frankly, and speak under your breath. Without turning or looking in his direction she leaned forwards, her head supported upon her fingers, her elbows upon her knees. "I have," replied Wild; "and nothing but the evidence of my senses would have made me believe he was living, after the positive assurance I received to the contrary. ‘What is it?’ ‘Er—shouldn’t I tell—I mean, the young lady, sir—’ ‘You can leave the young lady to me. “Take my advice,” he said hoarsely.
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