’ At last. The spectacle seemed to afford as much amusement to Jonathan as to the actors engaged in it. The Press Room, to which Blueskin was conveyed on his arrival at the jail, was a small square chamber, walled and paved with stone. It was a port of call, since fortnightly a British mail-boat dropped her mudhook in the bay. Her skin prickled. We are doing a unit on World War II in American History right now, so maybe I am getting a little wrapped up in the unit or something, I dunno.
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