Even given that he was hopelessly enamoured of the wench, a fact which was obvious to the meanest intelligence. Nab and Quilt to the door! Jack, you are my prisoner. I’ve tried to use my authority. But, though the latter was somewhat embarrassed by his burthen, he peremptorily declined Jonathan's offer of assistance. He passed his arm under that of the constable, and drew him aside. She descended the stairs, and found herself at last in the street—alone.
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