"Then I'll have it before to-morrow morning," said the keeper of the New Prison, to himself. Before midnight, your nephew shall be safe beneath the hatches of the Zeeslang. From what she could tell, he truly had convinced himself that he was in love with her, but she knew that his ardor would fade eventually inasmuch as she knew John’s would. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic.
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