” He glanced over at her cockeyed, and then returned his gaze to the road. There were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks. Give way, and let us render what assistance we can to the poor wretch. Then she took her sister’s hand. Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy. She could not feel her own body.
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