Something about the girl had suggested an idea. "I'll admit that. "Leave me to my fate," rejoined Jack. " "Jack's a noble fellow," exclaimed the head-jailer of Clerkenwell Prison, raising his glass; "and, though he played me a scurvy trick, I'll drink to his speedy deliverance. Adieu!" And, snatching a hasty kiss, he darted after Jack. " "Leave you!" echoed the ruffian, with a contemptuous laugh; "—not just yet. He had not had time to aim the pistol. She was not afraid exactly, but there was that about her loneliness to-night she distrusted. This formality irked her: she wanted to play a little, romp. They are rather a long way off, but you could write to them.
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