"It is Sheppard—Jack Sheppard—stop him!" And his shouts were reiterated by the pack of bloodhounds at his heels. Better take these sandwiches. Here lay a heap of knockers of all sizes, from the huge lion's head to the small brass rapper: there, a collection of sign-boards, with the names and calling of the owners utterly obliterated. She was curious, and at the same time clearly resolved she must not hear it. She must kill this man, or kill herself. Blotted out—Love! With infinite care, through nearly a thousand pages, her father had obliterated the word Love.
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