Acquainted with every part of the jail, Jack well knew that his only chance of effecting an escape must be by the roof. “I am convinced you haven’t thought this out,” he went on. She had animated dark blue-gray eyes under her fine eyebrows, and dark brown hair that rolled back simply and effectively from her broad low forehead. The picture of Mary Remenham was still on the wall. It was bare of any furnishings. She had flung away from her father’s support with the finest assumption of personal independence. But I will disappoint you.
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