Sheppard," cried the carpenter's wife bitterly; "and, I repeat, Bedlam's too good for her. His sword-arm fell useless at his side and she knew herself safe. CHAPTER XVI. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. As they passed beneath the thick trees that shade the road to Dollis Hill, the gloom was almost impenetrable. And, then, forsooth, she must needs prevent your hanging Jack Sheppard after the robbery in Wych Street, when you might have done so. Keeping hold of the doorhandle, she turned slowly.
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