When in the plenitude of his power, he commenced a terrible trade, till then unknown—namely, a traffic in human blood. It ceased to be the symbol of liberty and a remote and quite abstracted person, and became suddenly and very disagreeably the token of a large and portentous body visible and tangible. In one of the big gates was a little door, and she rapped at this. He saw his father, calling to him from an icy white tunnel, beckoning to him.
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