Lucy could feel blood welling underneath a bump half swelling and already half-healing on her scalp. Some rustic hand had written upon the door "JACK SHEPPARD'S CAGE;" and upon the wall was affixed a large placard describing his person, and offering a reward for his capture. It was horrible, but what could she do? She meant to live her own life, and he meant, with contempt and insults, to prevent her. ‘Don’t be silly. I feel at moments as though I could bolt for it.
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