“I know you very well by sight, Sir John. “Is that you, Nigel?” she asked. He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so. "Don't scourge me," she cried, trying to hide herself in the farthest corner of the cell. "I've won, after all.
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