" "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. ” “Until some one takes pity on me and marries me?” He raised his eyebrows in mild appeal. “It’s okay, Michelle. The simile started a laugh in his throat. Scarcely had it come to a halt, when a stalwart man shouldered his way, in spite of their opposition, through the lines of soldiery to the cart, and offered his large horny hand to the prisoner. Never! And they don’t know it! They have no idea of it. It was wonderful to think this thing had lived, had felt and suffered.
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