"Or the street," returned Jack: "mind my words, the prison's not built that can keep me. Her eyes were soft and grave, and there was the faintest of smiles upon her resolute lips. So I made haste and recovered. Five minutes ago, his butler had entered the green saloon, an austere apartment, with dark forest-green wallpaper flocked with a swirling design, and heavy mahogany furniture. “You were born for great things,” he said huskily. “You are coming right out into life—facing it all.
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