I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect. 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. Melusine approached with caution and sat warily at one end, looking up at him expectantly. ‘In the bookroom, sir,’ answered the man, his eyes round as they took in the furious beauty at the visitor’s side. She turned back to Gerald, holding out her hand.
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