"Write as I dictate," he cried, placing a pen in the jailer's hand and a pistol to his ear. “You were born for great things,” he said huskily. Please sit with me. "Jack," said the other, sternly; "don't provoke me further, or I'll give you a thrashing. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. Gerald began to ease forward, deciding just how he would accost her. ‘Yes, dear Nan, a flirtation.
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