But if God is kind to me, someday I may climb up to where you are. . ’ ‘Pray don’t,’ begged Mrs Sindlesham, one eye on the general’s embattled features. "Is your master at home?" inquired the jailer. His arm entered the round window of the white haze of her vision, his wrist spouting blood in currents, dripping on the stone floor. "Thames!—Thames!" cried Winifred, rushing to the window.
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