When Jack entered the cell, she was talking to herself in the muttering unconnected way peculiar to her distracted condition; but, after her eye had rested on him some time, the fixed expression of her features relaxed, and a smile crossed them. He jumped out of the car. You know not what a wretched guilty thing I am. It had her raven locks, her pouting lips. And if I don’t, I go mad.
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