“It’s my fault. ” He rejoiced over this emancipation. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. “Here goes for the new life!” “Here goes for the new life,” he echoed and stood up. Neither of these wards had beds, and the unfortunate inmates were obliged to take their rest on the oaken floor. "We'll give them the slip yet, and hang that butcherly thief-taker upon his own gibbet. Only the night before, in the dining room of the Hong-Kong Hotel, she had watched him empty glass after glass of whisky, and shudder and shudder. After all, it was what she had been praying for—and Annabel could not have known her address.
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