A struggle of the most terrific kind now ensued. " "Jack's a noble fellow," exclaimed the head-jailer of Clerkenwell Prison, raising his glass; "and, though he played me a scurvy trick, I'll drink to his speedy deliverance. But I am not worthy to be any man's wife —far less his wife. I sha'n't cry any more. "I wonder," said Ruth. Where was the harm in letting her go? She could not get far. " "You need not," replied Jack, in a tone of the deepest compunction. As he returned to the table, he put his finger to his nose; and, though he said nothing, he thought he had a much better chance of winning his wager.
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