“Pretend,” he said, “that all I have said hasn’t been said. Do you understand?” “I do not,” he answered. 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. Twice she smiled, but not unkindly. "Miss Thornhill's a charming girl. I’m so glad you’re not angry. She would never love him as she loved Capes, of course, but there are grades and qualities of love. ” His face darkened.
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