A smile trembled at the corners of her mouth as she recalled Gerald’s ridiculous upbraiding of his own reflection in the mirror. Around her neck was a little gold chain. She could not help but swoon a little. Jackson, mean time, produced a pocket-book; and, after deliberately sharpening the point of a pencil, began to write on a blank leaf. There was a moment’s breathless and disappointed silence. Wood was an old friend of mine—and I recollect seeing Jack when he was bound 'prentice to him. Ever since he's become so famous, the folks about here ha' christened it Jack Sheppard's cage. One post-midnight meeting, she could stand it no longer. "I didn't mean to give offence," replied Sheppard, sulkily.
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