“What were you trying to do?” Lucy asked. I too can see it. “This,” he exclaimed, “must be either the indifference of an utterly callous nature, or it may be—ye gods, it may be—innocence. Spurling was no longer allowed to visit him; he was again loaded with irons; fastened by an enormous horse-padlock to a staple in the floor; and only allowed to take repose in a chair. Find that boy. A swift frown brought the still dark brows together for a moment.
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