He'd never forgive you. " "Let me touch you, then; let me feel if you are really flesh and blood," cried the poor maniac, creeping towards him on all fours. His hand went to his pocket and extracted a neat silver-mounted pistol. Meantime, the Stone Hall was crowded by all the inmates of the jail, debtors, felons, turnkeys, and officers who could obtain permission to witness the ceremony of the prisoner's irons being struck off. Gay," he added, turning to the poet. The thought of going back!—the thought of the unknown out there!—" with a tragic gesture toward the east.
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