" "You are offering your hand to me?" "Without reservations. "Or the street," returned Jack: "mind my words, the prison's not built that can keep me. "Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, folding her to his breast. Over an old crazy bedstead was thrown a squalid, patchwork counterpane; and upon the counterpane lay a black hood and scarf, a pair of bodice of the cumbrous form in vogue at the beginning of the last century, and some other articles of female attire.
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