He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. 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. " This she did carefully, but inwardly commenting that he was still in the realm of strange fancies. The prisoner was then thrust in by Quilt. Wood," replied Jack, calmly.
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