" "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. His obtuse hands punched and jabbed at her uselessly, then he throttled her neck with the last of his strength. You do not love your husband, you have married him for a position —to escape from—things which you feared. And you, Austin; and you Langley, I say the same thing to you.
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