She was not quite clear how she should find it, but she felt she would. Another door was next opened, and, preceded by the ordinary, with the sacred volume in his hand, the prisoner entered the room. "Every brick I take out," cried Jack, as fresh rubbish clattered down the chimney, "brings me nearer my mother. ‘Dieu du ciel, for what do you take me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he threw at her. In each pause she could sense his growing trepidation.
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