"Try!" Enraged at the assurance of his mistress, the woollen-draper endeavoured to carry his threat into execution, but all his efforts to remove her were unavailing. “Some day you will be my wife, and it would not be well for either of us to remember that in these unhappy days you and I were separated. 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. Supposing he too wanted love and his arms were as empty as hers? Some living thing that depended upon her.
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