Wood. She doesn't love you; she hasn't the least idea what it means beyond what she has read in novels. Jack, who had formerly been in the custody of both these gentlemen, gave them a very cordial welcome; apologized for the sorry room he was compelled to receive them in; and when they took leave, insisted on treating them to a double bowl of punch, which they were now discussing with the upper jailer, Mr. Their idea of maidenly innocence was just a blank white—the sort of flat white that doesn’t shine. His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. "Halloa!" cried Jack, looking round, and trying to fix his inebriate gaze upon the speaker,—"who's that?" "Your mother," replied Mrs. The commissionaire stood there, tall and imperturbable.
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