"Have a little patience, Sir," rejoined the jailer. She was silent. You need fear no interruption from him, or any of his myrmidons. I have worn it for weeks and weeks. “Nigel, Nigel,” she cried. What need had she of Gerald, or anyone? Yet, if he was here, would he not make some foolish game with her and make her laugh? Instead of behaving in this fashion so stupide, and crying, crying, crying.
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