He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him. ” He took a seat by her side. ‘Stand where you are, or I shoot!’ Like lightning, thoughts zipped through her mind. She calls us her guests, but in reality we are her prisoners. ToC During the whole of the next day and night, the poor widow hovered like a ghost about the precincts of the debtors' garrison,—for admission (by the Master's express orders,) was denied her.
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