"If Jack would come to my house, I'd contrive to hide him," remarked a buxom dame. Her mouth lolled open and drool seeped down one corner. Wearied at length with thinking on the past, and terrified by the prospect of the future, he threw himself on the straw with which the cage was littered, and endeavoured to compose himself to slumber. Old thoughts, old feelings, old faces, and old scenes have returned to me, and I have fancied myself happy,—as happy as I am now. The unfortunate woman was stretched upon the floor, with a bloody knife in her hand.
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