Yes, I think we have thoroughly thrashed that one out. It may be treacherous, it may lay up a store of future woe; but it insures present happiness, and that is sufficient. “No,” she said, under her breath, “you can’t face it. Idleness is the key of beggary, Jack. I hope I may never come near her. Good riddance to bad rubbish. You are my slave—and such you shall continue. " "Help me through at all hazards, Poll," cried Jack, straining towards the opening.
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