What's-your-name?" "Shotbolt, Sir," replied the jailer. \" He said, as he threw his trash into the can on the way out. Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. He poured a pinch of tobacco into his palm and sniffed. " He took her face between his hands and kissed her on the lips.
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