Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it. But are we any more free?” “Well?” “I mean we’ve long strings to tether us, but we are bound all the same. Almost at once she had comprehended that she was expected to write down her name and address, which she did, in slanting cobwebby lettering, perhaps a trifle laboriously. "Hear me," he cried, restraining himself with difficulty.
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