"Help!—help, Mr. I'm almost sorry your suspicions are unfounded, if your father in any way resembled you, my youngster. I ought to be able to think things out. ’ She flounced back to stare out of the window again. Nothing to do; nothing for the hands, the mind, the heart. But here she met with a check. My poor brain is so mixed, dear, I hardly know what I am saying. As soon as he was certain he should be disturbed no more, Jack set to work, and with the aid of the file in less than an hour had freed himself from his fetters. If I’d meant it, my girl, you’d be dead meat.
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