When the carpenter concluded his recital, Jonathan was for a moment lost in reflection. "By my soul," said the sexton, "that's as like Jack Sheppard as any one I ever seed i' my born days. After all, it was what she had been praying for—and Annabel could not have known her address. ‘I suppose he isn’t this Leonardo you spoke of?’ ‘Certainly he is not Leonardo. You will join a world of fashion, a world of wealth, a life of ease. " She opened the book which she had brought to the table. Her foster father, Larry, was the hard working son-of-a-bitch type with a disdain for suits.
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