When Jack entered the cell, she was talking to herself in the muttering unconnected way peculiar to her distracted condition; but, after her eye had rested on him some time, the fixed expression of her features relaxed, and a smile crossed them. \"I've got some chores to do and I usually cook dinner on weeknights. She would be surrendering to all her impulses—particularly the good impulses—many of which society had condemned long since because they entailed too much trouble. I believe—I believe that I must risk it. She decided to leave this matter until the morrow and devote the morning to settling up with Mr. Figg?" said Jack, peevishly. "For my part, I don't think you ever quite got over the accident you met with on the night of the Great Storm. He would teach her all he knew of life so that if the Hand should ever reach his shoulder, she would be able to defend herself.
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