Henceforth, I utterly throw off the yoke you have laid upon me. That had shut him up for a while. For four hours he had shifted his own troubles to the shoulders of these imaginative characters. They WERE weird. E. . Only old librarians and Shirley Temples say that. And I passed myself off as Meysey Hill, and since—then—I haven’t had a minute’s peace. I dared not sing, I dared not laugh, except when you went away. There was only one small grated window in this hold, which admitted but little light.
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