Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. And all this time perhaps you have been waiting, expecting to hear from me. The thief-taker's throat was bound up with thick folds of linen, and his face had a ghastly and cadaverous look, which communicated an undefinable and horrible expression to his glances. But tell me how have you escaped from the confinement in which you were placed—come and sit by me—here—upon the bed—give me your hand—and tell me all about it.
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