"What's that to you?" retorted Jack, surlily. ” “Isn’t it enough that I love you? Turn me now. She was too delicate, too fragile to survive out there. Spurling, formerly, it may be remembered, the hostess of the Dark House at Queenhithe,—whence wine, ale, and brandy of inferior quality were dispensed, in false measures, and at high prices, throughout the prison, which in noise and debauchery rivalled, if it did not surpass, the lowest tavern. Still, his robust frame enabled him to hold out. In fact, the whole face had undergone a transformation. " The poor widow hung her head, and pressed her child closer to her breast. You ignore me! That’s not a good way to treat your only friend.
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