5. His gaze dropped to the black garment that covered her. The walls of the room were lined with shelves, on which were glass jars, retorts, countless bottles and many appliances of surgical science. “You can count upon me, Nigel,” she said. Once more he was the searcher. "To-morrow it will be mine. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. I believe it amused him. She released her clutch on it as, dizzy with exhaustion, she leaned against the back of the pew and closed her eyes, her fingers grasping out automatically for support. I have broken from prison, and am come to save you. Such freedoms from such people were not to be endured.
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