In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs. "But I soon shall be," returned Jack; "take these," he added, flinging the handcuffs against the wooden partition, "and wear 'em yourself. ‘For that, I must conceal that I also have enjoyed the kiss. Martin’s eyes seemed about to pop out of his head. “Accident! She shot me,” he muttered.
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