"Or the street," returned Jack: "mind my words, the prison's not built that can keep me. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. She reminded him of his linnet, when he gave the bird the freedom of the house: it became filled with a wild gaiety which bordered on madness.
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