He felt the first sting of the whip. “There,” he said, “you don’t treat me fairly, Miss Stanley. It was a large room, about twenty feet long and fifteen broad, and had an arched stone roof. ‘And you, my girl, if you’d been born at all, would have been just what you think you are. “It makes me feel,” he said, “that nothing is impossible—to have you here beside me. "I can't hold it much longer—it'll break my wrist.
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