"Or the street," returned Jack: "mind my words, the prison's not built that can keep me. "Humph!" exclaimed Jonathan, doubtfully. Submission to the inevitable carried her through the circumstances of her appearance before the magistrate. "Do you know what you make me think of?" "What?" "As if you had stepped out of some old family album. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb.
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