The road which wound by Westbourne Green, gave him a full view of the hill of Hampstead with its church, its crest of houses, and its villas peeping from out the trees. He daren't quarrel with me: and if he does, let him look to himself. It's fortunate we've no more Jack Sheppards, or I should stand but a poor chance. Consent to become my wife, and do not compel me to have recourse to violence to effect my purpose, and I will spare your son. Wood," observed Jackson, in a slightly-sarcastic tone.
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