Advancing towards Wood, Jonathan fixed his keen gray eyes upon him, and demanded, in a stern tone whether the persons who had taken refuge in the adjoining house, were bailiffs. He rambled in an unfortunate monotone, the result of his innate fear of public speaking. ” “We’ll have, thank God! ten myriad days to tell each other things. His tone changed, becoming a little more moderate. 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. Luck.
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