Wood uttered something like an imprecation. She had flung away from her father’s support with the finest assumption of personal independence. Immeasurable disgust possessed her. "You are my prisoner. Darting down Field-lane, Jack struck into a labyrinth of streets on the left; but though he ran as swiftly as he could, he was not unperceived. The younger of the two, who was seated next to Jack, and seemed to monopolize his attention, could not be more than seventeen, though her person had all the maturity of twenty. The Return 231 II.
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