"My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. When the prisoner was brought into this room, he was again questioned; but, continuing contumacious, preparations were made for inflicting the torture. In the floor were set four ring-bolts, about nine feet apart. ’ Abruptly, the niggling doubt that had been plaguing Lord Charvill came sweeping to the surface. ” She lifted steadfast eyes to him. You seemed to me to be slipping and slipping, and your face was white. "To those who, like me, have never been able to get out of the dark and dreary paths of life, the grave is indeed a refuge, and the sooner they reach it the better.
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