People were not slaves to their gods as they are now, oppressed and unhappy, chained to their mortality and suffering so that they may one day enter an imaginary Heaven. He heard Rollo's stump beat a gentle tattoo on the floor. The two lovers sat together, and their sole discourse turned upon Jack and his ill-fated mother. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. "You'll feel better after it. On that night, I surrendered myself to Jonathan Wild, and became— what I am. Too late, alas, to stop the disastrous marriage. “The fellow is not such a blackguard, after all.
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