The easel and palette having been packed up, and the canvass carefully removed by Austin, the party took leave of the prisoner, who was so much abstracted that he scarcely noticed their departure. "What did you do?" he asked, in a broken voice. "Right!—right!" cried Jack, striking his fettered hands against his breast. “Sorry to be so terribly rude, Martin. As for himself, there had never been a touch of it. Then to the Golden Ball, in the same street.
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