"As I said before, I have little reliance upon professions of gratitude. “It’s odd—I have no doubt in my mind that what we are doing is wrong,” he said. “I am fairly well known here. Or perhaps my father once. " "Why, what'll you do?" demanded the turnkey. But, as soon as he perceived who it was, he roused himself, and glared fiercely at the intruder from under his bent brows. " "I cannot repent,—I cannot pray," replied Jack, recovering his hardened demeanour. But, suppose I've no place to lock 'em up in, how then?" Quilt looked a little perplexed. Look in the small hide-bound book that he keeps in his boot. ‘Who’d believe me? And I’d have to tell my part in it all, too.
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