" "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. Somewhere in the world would be his people, perhaps his mother; and it might soften the bitterness, of the return to consciousness if he found a woman at his bedside. How is she?” “My sister is quite well, thank you,” she answered.
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