And if I don’t, I go mad. 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. It’s not like we’re getting married. "Somebody ought to get hold of that young man," said Prudence, grimly, as she nodded in Spurlock's direction. "Because they're in the next room, and the door's shut; that's vy, my jack-adandy!" replied Abraham, unsuspiciously. “I’ll bring it to-morrow.
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