’ Charvill eyed the girl with resentment. " "Two can play at that game, my blood," replied Sheppard, rising, and putting himself into a posture of defence. The same old lines and verses, over and over, until there had come times when shrieking would have relieved her. Satisfied, as he thought, that he had nothing to apprehend, the boy resumed his task, chanting, as he plied his knife with redoubled assiduity, the following—not inappropriate strains:— THE NEWGATE STONE.
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