She elected to go to prison. Making her couch upon a heap of hay, she sank at once into a deep and refreshing slumber. Anna was more difficult. “Please stop, cabman,” she ordered. ‘You don’t favour her, bar the black hair. I'll turn cracksman, like my father—rob old Wood—he has chests full of money, and I know where they're kept—I'll rob him, and give the swag to you, Poll—I'll—" Jack would have said more; but, losing his balance, he fell to the ground, and, when taken up, he was perfectly insensible. But for me it doesn’t matter. ’ ‘But she must have known I’d longed to hear of you.
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