In truth, she had been quite glad to lose the argument about remaining while the bullet was dug out of Jack’s side. The lantern was on the ground inside, ready. "There's Sharples," cried Quilt. This was the first young man who had drawn from her something more than speculative interest. " "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.
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