The girl stupidly ran for the teacher leaving her still without clothing. Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told. You are my prisoner, murderer. What about your luggage?” “I could get a few of my things, at any rate,” she said. She did not open the Bible but laid it on the edge of the bed, knelt and rested her forehead upon the worn leather cover. “I am sure of it. If I don't, you shall clap me in the Condemned Hold in his stead.
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