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“David,” she said, “you are not a coward, are you?” “I do not know,” he muttered. ’ ‘You should be happy that you are not dead,’ she retorted, but with a diminution of the venom and fright in her voice. Each manuscript was like the other: the same lovely treatment of an unlovely subject. So frightful, indeed, were the ravages of this malady, to which debtors and felons were alike exposed, that its miserable victims were frequently carried out by cart-loads, and thrown into a pit in the burial-ground of Christ-church, without ceremony. ‘Who is to be angry with you now?’ ‘Miss Prudence, that’s who,’ stated Joan bluntly. When he awoke, it was late in the day; but though he heard voices outside, and now and then caught a glimpse of a face peeping at him through the iron grating over the door, no one entered the prison, or held any communication with him.
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