"Where is the boy?" demanded Sir Rowland. Gods! what it must be to pour out strong, splendid verse—mighty lines! mighty lines! If I do, Ann Veronica, it will be you. Wood's house was broken into and plundered. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. " "You'd better send him," jeered the turnkey. Here we go, thought Gerald.
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