‘My dear boy, your loyalty is misplaced. She had prepared herself to meet violent protest, a recurrence of that burning glance. We married, and for a time we were happy. His legs were dreadfully swelled; his hands bruised; and his fetters occasioned him intolerable pain. Even in his fevered hours, so the girl had said, his tongue had not betrayed him. ’ ‘Your plan, then. Wood in the deepest mourning.
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