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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. “My dear friend,” she laughed, “not so tragic, if you please. "The devil you have!" thundered a voice from behind, that filled the apprentice with dismay. “To think that you were going to do it—and never said a word! You are a little thin, but except for that you look—you look better than ever. He could remember when women laid away their gowns in lavender—as this girl's mother had. I told him that I would help stage your kidnapping.
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