The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. “What can one say?” she exclaimed. " The spinster had no retort to offer such directness. He was also, had she known it, more than a little insincere. Jack Sheppard's Quarrel with Jonathan Wild. "Oh, God! that I might die too," cried Jack, falling on his knees beside her.
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