I saw the metal box a hundred times, but I never thought of opening it until the day I fled. He had conveyed it to her, not verbally, but by means of a letter, which seemed to her a singularly ignoble method of prohibition. At one moment, it seemed as if the flying bark was about to put to shore. But as the next moment all was profound darkness, Jack easily managed to break away from them. I did not care—no woman really cares—to play the beggar maid to your King Cophetua.
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