Jackson, to the swig. Kneebone," observed Shotbolt, as he emptied his tenth tumbler; "I'm sure he's meditating an escape, and hopes to accomplish it to-night. “I am not sure,” Anna answered. " "Force shall not make me yours till Jack is free," replied the widow, resolutely. “But I am your husband,” he said. " "Jack, my love," cried Mrs.
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