She longed to allow him to kiss her again, to touch her again. This employment seemed to afford him the highest satisfaction; for a diabolical grin—it cannot be called a smile—played upon his face all the time he was engaged in it. When Sheila was in a good mood, one almost enjoyed her. "Or the street," returned Jack: "mind my words, the prison's not built that can keep me. I shall barely be in time for the theatre. May I ask the nature of your interest in her?” He hesitated.
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