"Or the street," returned Jack: "mind my words, the prison's not built that can keep me. You're welcome to it. “Let go!” she gasped at him, a blaze of anger. . "The door!—the door!—death!" he added, as he tried the handle, "it is locked—and I am unarmed. "Can't you take me with you?" urged the voice; "I'll make it well worth your while. To—to find myself. What!—add another drop to her cup? Who knows? Any day they may find me. But all those empty years!… My heart was hot.
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