The Press Room, to which Blueskin was conveyed on his arrival at the jail, was a small square chamber, walled and paved with stone. ’ Lucilla Froxfield laughed gaily. Wood, with a candle in his hand, which Jack instantly blew out, and darted down stairs. She loved her mother Marina more than any other thing in the world and could not bear to speak to her for a fortnight after being told her fate. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person.
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