Rollo barked. Kneebone, respecting the lawless career of Jack Sheppard, and struck with the probable fate that awaited him, the young man, as he contemplated this scene, fell into a gloomy reverie. His face was that of a quick, intelligent-looking boy, with fine hazel eyes, and a clear olive complexion. "Let us in," said the Master, rapping his truncheon authoritatively against the boards, "or we'll force an entrance. ’ ‘Hélas, poor you,’ Melusine rejoined sarcastically.
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