“Well, I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. Plote was sleeping or deaf. Casting a hasty glance, as he was about to turn an angle of the wall, at the great gates and upper windows of the prison, and perceiving no symptoms of pursuit, Jack proceeded towards the hovel at a very deliberate pace, carefully assisting his female companion over every obstacle in the road, and bearing her in his arms when, as was more than once the case, she sank from fright and exhaustion. ’ He added on a teasing note, ‘Though if there’s anything suspicious we can always get the key from Pottiswick. He taught her about crowds, which men were the evilest, how to locate and dispose society’s garbage.
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