" "Better she die by her own hand, than by that monster's," cried Jack, brandishing the bar. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. ’ ‘You mean I need not have said it? Damnation. “Yes. But if that can possibly be done I want it to be done. ” He signed his name and reflected. So completely! The oddest fitness! What is it made of? Texture of skin and texture of mind? Complexion and voice. " "So he is," returned Jack; "but there's no saying how long he may remain so. A few short, dark locks, escaping from beneath her head-dress, showed that her hair had been removed, and had only been recently allowed to grow again. " Roused by this reflection, filled with the deepest anxiety for his mother, and burning to be avenged upon Jonathan Wild, he grasped the iron bar, which, when he sat down, he had laid upon his knees, and stepped quickly across the room.
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