Someone bounded up the stairs, which groaned from the strain, unmistakably Mike. “Martin Chen!” Michelle shouted his name in an outburst, like an invocation. One more passer-by; and always would she remember his patience and tenderness and disinterestedness. As soon as the manacles were slipped over the prisoner's wrists, and the new padlock secured to the staple, they withdrew. For a few days he was able to relegate his conscience to the background.
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