” He moved himself from the recliner to the couch and patted a cushion. She could now see to read; so she stirred the manuscript about until she came upon the first page. ‘What in God’s name do you think you’re playing at?’ ‘Let me alone, man,’ Gerald muttered under his breath. " "Is she alive?" repeated the widow. He was confined in the Middle Stone Ward, a spacious apartment, with good light and air, situated over the gateway on the western side, and allotted to him, not for his own convenience, but for that of the keepers, who, if he had been placed in a gloomier or more incommodious dungeon, would have necessarily had to share it with him. The house was redolent with the smells of cinnamon baking and the stuffed turkey and marinated pork roast.
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