" Ten minutes' walk brought them to the hotel. On all hands Jack was cheered, and Jonathan hooted. "I don't deserve it," he said, at length; "but I would have risked a thousand deaths to enjoy this moment's happiness. Ah, Thierry and Poussaint, if my memory serves me. The wastrel, the ne'er-do-well, who went mostly nobly to a fine end. Never again to be alone! To fit herself into this man's life as a hand into a glove; to use all her skill to force him into the position of depending upon her utterly; to be the spark to the divine fire! He should have his book, even if it had to be written with her heart's blood. ’ ‘That depends, that does,’ said Trodger guardedly. . "I hardly know," returned Jack; "but it's not safe for me to remain much longer here.
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