John knew better. John laughed even harder, his eyes misting over. Shrinking involuntarily back into the farthest corner of the seat, Jack buried his face in his hands. I shall have no faith in future in bolts and bars. This island was the one haven he had; he might be forced to remain here for several years—until the Hand had forgotten him. "No," answered Jack, approaching her, "though, if I had done so, he would have merited his fate. Even given that he was hopelessly enamoured of the wench, a fact which was obvious to the meanest intelligence.
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