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Fretting and fidgeting, he had, after an hour or so, turned to McClintock. As Jack appeared to be sinking fast, his fetters were removed, his own clothes were returned to him, and he was allowed a mattress and a scanty supply of bed-linen. Stanley, standing on the hearthrug with his back to the unlit gas-fire. I have no right to love you. Sheppard, distractedly.
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