The poor wretch, driven by desperation to the commission of a crime which her soul abhors, is no more beyond the hope of reformation than she is without the pale of mercy. “Here goes,” he said. Prison was bleak without spaciousness, and pervaded by a faint, oppressive smell; and she had to wait two hours in the sullenly defiant company of two unclean women thieves before a cell could be assigned to her. “You can’t think that I’m fool enough to be put off like this. Nab and Quilt to the door! Jack, you are my prisoner. And you have to thank her presence, hot-headed boy, that I do not chastise your insolence as it deserves. I just never had anything else fun to do.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ1LjE3Mi4xNDYgLSAxMS0wNi0yMDI0IDE1OjIyOjI4IC0gMTU4NjE2MTg3NA==
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