ToC That night Jack walked to Paddington, and took up his quarters at a small tavern, called the Wheat-sheaf, near the green. Over here a man quickly loses faith, and I find myself back on solid ground once more. It was now getting dusk, and he could only imperfectly distinguish the features and figure of the stranger. "Can you not love him?" "Love him!" echoed the widow. Love—admiration for your matchless beauty alone sways me. The decision had been sound. Luckily, Mrs. " "I see. Ever since he's become so famous, the folks about here ha' christened it Jack Sheppard's cage.
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