She's my mealticket. "You are arrested for high treason," rejoined Wild, presenting a pistol at his head, while he drew forth a parchment,—"here is my warrant. ‘Only you made me lose my temper, and—’ ‘I made you do so? Pah!’ Gerald at last succeeded in ripping the handkerchief from her grasp, and swiftly held it to her neck, oblivious to her now bloodied fingers clawing at his hand. She was quite unconcerned. " "That boy'll never rest till he finds his vay to Bridewell," observed Sharples.
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