"I cannot—dare not injure him," rejoined Trenchard, with a haggard look, and sinking, as if paralysed, into a chair. No, I thank you. “I should make sure that he doesn’t try to drive himself home. “You stupid bitch. Knap. And then the fetters, which were still upon his legs:—how was he to get rid of them? Tired and dispirited, he still wandered on. Creeping along quickly on his hands and knees, he found the entrance to a covered drain, into which he crept. “I should like to understand you,” he said.
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