CHAPTER XXVII His idea, cleverly planned, was to shatter her resistance, to confound her suddenly by striking her mind with words which would rob her coherent thought. Come along, my Newgate bird!" he continued, shaking him with great violence. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton. “Yes. ” “You talk strangely, Anna,” he said. This was his humiliation as well as hers. Fixing a ferocious and exulting look upon Jack Sheppard, he exclaimed. It presented itself in the likeness of a great, gray, dull world—a brutal, superstitious, confused, and wrong-headed world, that hurt people and limited people unaccountably. She had expected a love story; and love was totally absent. It was at the age of five, when it became clear that she would not be followed by a brother, that he became more distant towards her and stopped adoring her.
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