A large dog was then set at him by a stable-boy; but, striking the animal with his faithful iron-bar, he speedily sent him yelping back. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. White and Miss Ellicot laid each a hand upon his arm, one on either side. Come!” They went out together and he called a hansom. Jack was lying so still, for a moment she panicked. Wood in their favour.
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