He looked at his port wine as though that tawny ruby contained the solution of the matter. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. You have been to see your sister, of course. She remained by the door until the walls of the city swallowed the bobbing lantern. She bound a scarf tightly round the place where the blood seemed to be coming from. That night, she hunted the alleyways of the old town. You may enjoy your pride, your arrogance—in a coffin. "But I soon shall be," returned Jack; "take these," he added, flinging the handcuffs against the wooden partition, "and wear 'em yourself.
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