" "Thank you! thank you!" faltered Jack, in a voice full of emotion. "If the best nag ever foaled were to throw me in this unlucky spot, I'd blow his brains out. As Jack appeared to be sinking fast, his fetters were removed, his own clothes were returned to him, and he was allowed a mattress and a scanty supply of bed-linen. Regardless as the gentry of the Mint usually were (for, indeed, they had become habituated from their frequent occurrence to such scenes,) of any outrages committed in their streets; deaf, as they had been, to the recent scuffle before Mrs. With me behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose. What is your father's business?" The question was an impertinence, but Ruth was not aware of that. They turned off at Glen Grove, a sleepy town of less than two hundred.
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