“I was frightened then,” she declared. This left Spurlock alone. "I am innocent. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. "Hope to. " "You'd better hold your peace, my lad," observed Jonathan, in a menacing tone. She seized the key, and he grasped her hand and squeezed it roughly and painfully between the handle and the ward as she tried to turn it.
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