“Is that not rather a profitless speculation, my friend?” He seemed deaf to her interruption. We can’t. Having seen his mistress safe down, Jack instantly descended, leaving the best part of his clothes, as a memorial of his flight, to the jailor. A piece of old blanket was fastened across her shoulders, and she had no other clothing except a petticoat. “I know nothing about your wife. By the will of Mr. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key.
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