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“Annabel at last,” he shouted. Besides these, there was a sturdylooking fellow, whom he instantly recognised as the honest blacksmith who had freed him from his irons at Tottenham. ” “Tolstoy is so good about this,” said Miss Miniver, regardless of her friend’s attitude. He fancied that the turnkeys had discovered his flight and were in pursuit of him,—that they had climbed up the chimney,—entered the Red Room,— tracked him from door to door, and were now only detained by the gate which he had left unbroken in the chapel. It engulfed them in black, white, and gray. He felt his heart beat faster and faster—his self-restraint slipping away.
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