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 hand came up and she laced her fingers with his. A creature of convenience, she could have cared less if her children were carried away by drunkards on the street. Perhaps that sealed letter was a form of confession, and thus relieved him on that score. When you reach San Francisco, you can buy something more appropriate. “John,” she said, “I am afraid that I am going to make you unhappy.
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