Jack turned away with an aching heart. “It means that I have had enough of this slavery,” she declared. They thought that she was her own mother. Having disposed of his steed and swallowed a glass of brandy, without taking any other refreshment, he threw himself on a couch, where he sank at once into a heavy slumber. “Sufficient unto me is the change thereof,” he said, with all the effect of an epigram. There’s a hansom coming round the corner. Eric Vorsack still toiled at work. Henry Clay, thirteen cents in Hong-Kong and two-bits in that dear old New York. It is just the aim I have had in view all the time.
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