“Now I suppose Brendon understands exactly what you mean,” he remarked. For freedom at least. He heard Rollo's stump beat a gentle tattoo on the floor. "I don't know how it is," he added in a low voice to Thames, as they were left alone, "but I've a strange foreboding of ill. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image.
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