Her attenuated arms were crossed upon her breast; and her black brows and eyelashes contrasted fearfully with the livid whiteness of her skin. "Once in this chair, yer hon'r, and I'll warrant he'll not get out so aisily as Jack Sheppard did from the New Pris'n. She crawled underneath the soft white sheets, reclining and pulling the blankets up to her chin. The fanatic has no such word in his vocabulary.
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