One of them was a stout square-built man, with a singularly swarthy complexion, and harsh forbidding features. I bound him up good and tight, stuffed his mouth with a length of rope, taped it shut. I’m a man, and I know what I mean. But was it Faith? That is what she was this day going to find out. I hope you won’t think less of me, you’ve treated me so well. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. "Odd's life!" cried Gay, in astonishment; "is this slight-made stripling Jack Sheppard? Why, I expected to see a man six foot high at the least, and as broad across the shoulders as our friend Figg. She twisted her fingers tightly. Every now and then her general presence became radiantly dazzling in his eyes; she would appear in the street coming toward him, a surprise, so fine and smiling and welcoming was she, so expanded and illuminated and living, in contrast with his mere expectation.
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