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. Aunt Jane had her quiet moments. ’ ‘As far as I know it, ma’am. A stout female stood in the aperture, an oil lamp in her hand. It was her foster brother Mike, on his way to the bathroom. His cigar burnt out between his fingers, and he threw it impatiently away.
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