Poor girl! she was beautiful once; so beautiful as to make me, who care little for the allurements of women, fancy myself enamoured of her. Except for the dull eyes and the extreme pallor of his face, there was nothing else to indicate that he was deep in liquor. She went on from street to street, and all the glory of London had departed. This was some satisfaction to the poor fellow, who was dreadfully frightened, as indeed he might well be, it being the opinion of the jailers and others who afterwards examined the place, that Jack had accomplished, single-handed, in a few hours, and, as far as it could be ascertained, with imperfect implements, what it would have taken half a dozen men several days, provided with proper tools, to effect. She pulled her chair with a mild creak and marched towards the stair. Acquainted with every part of the jail, Jack well knew that his only chance of effecting an escape must be by the roof. Who was he to tread on her dreams? She had heroworshipped an unscrupulous adventurer, who had not hesitated to impose on her youth and her ignorance. Not for me. ‘I have said it is not stolen,’ snapped Melusine indignantly. The horror of those few minutes was still with her.
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