She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. "He would return my letters unopened or destroy them. The occasion is worth a dash of the grape, lad. "Nothin'—nothin'," returned Blueskin; "only I thought—" "You saw the hangman, no doubt," said Jack. The stage manager came out from the wings, and taking her hand led her off.
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