She rested for a half hour in heaven on earth, feeling herself drift in and out of sleep. "Bravo, Poll!" cried Jack, who having again pinioned Shotbolt, was now tracing a few hasty lines on a sheet of paper. Half an hour passed, but Jack did not make his appearance. He embraced her, kissing her cheek, then her neck. " "And, what good would that do?" replied Ireton, sarcastically. She heard this standard expression of a strong soul wrung with a critical coldness that astonished herself.
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