" In an angle of the Stone Hall was the Iron Hold, a chamber containing a vast assortment of fetters and handcuffs of all weights and sizes. I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley. Courtlaw opened his lips, but remained silent in the face of her imperative gesture. He wondered if the young fool had any idea of what he had drawn in this tragic lottery called marriage. Practically.
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