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I ——” He stopped short. Whatever he wrote he was: he became this or that character, he suffered or prospered equally. What is it you’re after? Money, I suppose. The monster, Wild, when he visited my dungeon last night, told me, to add to my misery, that she occupied a cell near me. How could she tell him what indeed already began to puzzle herself, why she had borrowed that money at all? The plain fact was that she had grabbed a bait. "I am too much honoured—too happy in the union.
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