I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect. " "Well," said Sister Prudence, "remember, I tried to save you some future heartaches. “I suppose you’re like the rest of them. It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves. And yet the secondary emotion was one of suspicion. Jolly nice girl, too. But you shall swing, rascal,—you shall swing. I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley. I saw it this morning in the Daily Journal—an advertisement, offering a reward—" "A reward!" echoed Jack. She felt flattered.
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