I've sent for the priest. No doubt that was due to his helplessness. She proffered her neck towards him. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. And now," she added, glancing contemptuously at the woollen-draper, "I'll go to Jack Sheppard. His grief was so audible, that it attracted the notice of some of the bystanders, and Thames was obliged to beg him to control it. It was painted in the early seventeenth century by a minor artist named DuPre. If Martha knew all, she would certainly die of shock.
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