So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. "He can't escape. In the northwest angle, there was a small pen for female offenders, and, on the south, a more commodious enclosure appropriated to the master-debtors and strangers. I need you every day. The peculiar appearance of the sky was not without some influence in awakening these terrors. Why had he glanced up—quite in that way?. My motive in coming hither is to serve you, and save your life.
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