The will to live had returned. “Won’t you have some more tea, Mr. He righted a chair and sat in it, his face in his hands. "There'll be a louder echo here presently," thought Jonathan. A chill ran through his frame, and, grasping the heavy weapon with which chance had provided him, prepared to strike down the first person who should enter the cell. "What's your name?" he said, addressing the audacious lad, who was looking about him as coolly as if nothing material was going on.
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