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Kimble was clearly a plain-spoken fellow. In the discussion there was the oddest mixture of things that were personal and petty with an idealist devotion that was fine beyond dispute. ‘What, is Nicholas dead?’ He saw the two of them exchange glances and an instinct of danger rose up. " "True, and I shan't be easy till my turn arrives. Here, without a glimpse of daylight; visited by no one except Austin at stated intervals, who neither answered a question nor addressed a word to him; fed upon the worst diet, literally mouldy bread and ditch-water; surrounded by stone walls; with a flagged floor for his pillow, and without so much as a blanket to protect him from the death-like cold that pierced his frame,—Jack's stout heart was subdued, and he fell into the deepest dejection, ardently longing for the time when even a violent death should terminate his sufferings. What does it matter? I am not a pauper, Annabel.

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