” “A little pit!” said Ann Veronica; “a little prison!” “It’s just as often a little refuge. Wearied at length with thinking on the past, and terrified by the prospect of the future, he threw himself on the straw with which the cage was littered, and endeavoured to compose himself to slumber. Here, Peter," he added to a curly-headed lad, who was playing on one of the grassy tombs, "ask your father to step this way.
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