And now," she added, glancing contemptuously at the woollen-draper, "I'll go to Jack Sheppard. Hurled over the sides of the skiff, the ruffian speedily found a watery grave. There was a man, a boy, and a woman. A victim of one of those mental typhoons that scatter irretrievably the barriers of instinct and breeding; and he had gone on the rocks all in a moment. But there was something else; and in his befogged mental state the comparison eluded him.
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