“You see, father,” she said, “it isn’t only this affair of the dance. ’ ‘Begging your pardon, miss, but I think as how you ought to go back to London,’ Jack ventured. What's-your-name?" "Shotbolt, Sir," replied the jailer. There was a certain air of forced fortuity in his manner. It was better even than the hymn-singing. She almost submitted to this ending of her adventure. ‘Dead then, is he?’ ‘If I could say that he is dead, it would give me very much satisfaction.
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