"My name will only be remembered as that of a robber," he mused; "but it shall be remembered as that of a bold one: and this night's achievement, if it does nothing else, shall prevent me from being classed with the common herd of depredators. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. For my blood you made it very hot indeed. He had recently made Mr. Playing became a way of escape. Stanley came home at a quarter to six—an earlier train by fifteen minutes than he affected—his sister met him in the hall with a hushed expression. By this time, Jack's reputation had risen to such a height with the populace,—his exploits having become the universal theme of discourse, that the streets were almost impassable for the crowds collected to obtain a view of him. I will go with you. Only your horror of a grandfather insisted on coming with me, so I had to wait for him to be ready and travel at his pace. What can a girl do? Somewhere at this point Ann Veronica’s speculations were interrupted and turned aside by the approach of a horse and rider. But it sounds too real to be imagined.
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