She calls us her guests, but in reality we are her prisoners. Spurling," rejoined Ireton; "we can taste the rum when he returns. Some rustic hand had written upon the door "JACK SHEPPARD'S CAGE;" and upon the wall was affixed a large placard describing his person, and offering a reward for his capture. She should have slapped him but she was in shock at her own thoughts of lust that arose. Then she sat down—uninvited— and looked from one to the other curiously.
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