On their return, the jailers raised up Jonathan, who was weltering in his blood, and who appeared to be dying. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. ” “I don’t want to,” said Manning. In the pause a door could be heard opening and closing on the landing up-stairs. Here she walked more slowly, looking constantly at the notices in the shop windows.
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