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Spurling was no longer allowed to visit him; he was again loaded with irons; fastened by an enormous horse-padlock to a staple in the floor; and only allowed to take repose in a chair. You look like a movie star. She hoped that he would at long last remember his young male pride. But, finding the cellar-door open, concluded he had got out that way. Before an hour had elapsed, the concourse was fearfully increased. It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves.
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