Here, without a glimpse of daylight; visited by no one except Austin at stated intervals, who neither answered a question nor addressed a word to him; fed upon the worst diet, literally mouldy bread and ditch-water; surrounded by stone walls; with a flagged floor for his pillow, and without so much as a blanket to protect him from the death-like cold that pierced his frame,—Jack's stout heart was subdued, and he fell into the deepest dejection, ardently longing for the time when even a violent death should terminate his sufferings. Then he stepped briskly to his feet and bent over the wounded man. He rested his brow on his hand and conveyed magnificent tragedy by his pose. He still wore his hat, to show that the days of miracles and Christ being civil to sinners are over forever. “It is hard to express one’s self, but I do want to be honest with you. They sell only their talents, not their bodies; they are not girls of the street. "Your answer, gem'men?" demanded Sharples.
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