Before he re-entered the prison, he hesitated from a doubt whether he was not fearfully increasing his risk of capture; but, convinced that he had no other alternative, he went on. "Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through," cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation. She let him take off her skirt as she ritualistically removed his jeans along with his boxers. He guided himself between her legs. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. “I think we have,” he answered, gravely, and took her in his arms, and smoothed her hair from her forehead, and very tenderly kissed her lips.
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