Every drop of blood in her body glowed and expanded. But I was sorry for poor Jack—as I am still, and hoped he would mend. By and by he gathered enough courage to lean toward her. Shotbolt, the head turnkey of Clerkenwell Prison, and Mr. Her relationship with John had made her the object of desire for scores of teenage boys who had dared not previously think of her in such a way. There came to O'Higgins the discouraging knowledge that upon the heels of a wonderful chase—blindman's buff in the dark—would come a stretch of dull inaction. It was a face that matched her body, so pure and beautiful that any man would have killed for her.
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