“You had no right—” panted Ann Veronica. 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. Very slowly, very fearfully, she turned her head. Then he took the pulse. He found Abraham on guard as he had left him. When the paroxysm passed, he was forced to lean against the window-jamb for support.
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