"Or the street," returned Jack: "mind my words, the prison's not built that can keep me. “Act three. It’s just to feel—one owns one’s self. “I am. "I'm glad to hear it, that's all," he added, taking out his snuff-box, his never-failing resource in such emergencies. Then they deliberated whether Bernard Shaw ought to go into Parliament. “Ann Veronica,” he said, “I tell you this is love.
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