He was made welcome as McClintock's agent; but he politely declined all the proffered courtesies. "I told you the prison wasn't built that could hold me," cried Jack. He saw her eyes pass him and settle on a fleetingly pretty strawberry blond girl and her effeminate father. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. When he was up and about, the idea of flight would return.
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