He measured out the portion of another peg, the bottle wavering in his hand. When you don’t have any fingers left, I take a toe. She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. “I say, daddy,” she began, and was suddenly short of breath. The key is in my trousers. 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.
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