"What poet was that?" "Stevenson. Spurling was no longer allowed to visit him; he was again loaded with irons; fastened by an enormous horse-padlock to a staple in the floor; and only allowed to take repose in a chair. He saw the expression on the girl's face and understood what it signified, that it was the reflected pattern of his own. They carried no more than bare subsistence wages; and they demanded all her time and energy.
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