His legs were dreadfully swelled; his hands bruised; and his fetters occasioned him intolerable pain. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. " "There you are, just as I said. “Why do you kill me?” Michelle asked. She was almost tempted to tell him, if only to see the cracks of surprise and incredulity break the immobility of his yellow countenance. It was impossible to meet the motion bodily.
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