" "Do you want me to tell her that I am grateful?" "Well, aren't you?" "I don't know; I really don't know. . It was Blueskin. The discussion wandered, and was punctuated with bread and butter. Above this revolting spot was the female debtor's ward; below it a gloomy cell, called Tangier; and, lower still, the Stone Hold, a most terrible and noisome dungeon, situated underground, and unvisited by a single ray of daylight. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. The Widgett method of thought puzzled her weakly rhetorical mind.
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