"Mr. She would flee to the wild fastnesses, the places where there were no overarching systems of any use, where she could blend with the unstable populace and kill in relative peace. Pausing at each door on the landing, Jack placed his ear to the keyhole, and listened intently. See? Down we should rush in a foam—in a cloud of snow—to flight and a dream. And I’m off to America, and if my steamer goes to the bottom of the Atlantic I’ll thank the Lord for it.
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