“I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen. Acquainted with every part of the jail, Jack well knew that his only chance of effecting an escape must be by the roof. He was continually dramatizing the future, anticipating the singular role he had elected to play. That is so awful. He grabbed her wrist and prised the weapon from her fingers, ignoring her other hand that clawed at his to try to retain the trophy. "You may die afterwards as soon as you please," retorted Jonathan; "but live till then you shall.
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