"My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. There was a great splash of blood upon it, her hand was all wet and sticky. Gazing into each other's eyes with new-found rapture, neither observed the sudden appearance in the doorway of an elderly woman in travel-stained linen. She hated it, she hated the mission-house; she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky. As soon as Jack's escape became known, thousands of persons flocked to Newgate to behold his workmanship; and the jailers reaped am abundant harvest from their curiosity. “I can’t believe it. com/E21or The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ragged Edge, by Harold MacGrath This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever.
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