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. ‘Quickly! You must get up. He was sitting back from the table now, with one arm over the back of his green chair and the other resting on the little table. “I beg your pardon,” he said, “but you appear to be a fellow countrywoman of mine, and in some distress.
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