" "Jack's a noble fellow," exclaimed the head-jailer of Clerkenwell Prison, raising his glass; "and, though he played me a scurvy trick, I'll drink to his speedy deliverance. I could not dream of loving you. "What's your name?" he said, addressing the audacious lad, who was looking about him as coolly as if nothing material was going on. ’ ‘Ah. “She has been to my flat before. Or else—Else it will be impossible that I can be his friend.
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