Another door was next opened, and, preceded by the ordinary, with the sacred volume in his hand, the prisoner entered the room. I'll try to fill in the gaps. “A nice time of anxiety you’ve given me, young lady,” he said, as he entered the room. The fashions of the day have become antiquated. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. His physical body was predictably paralyzed with shyness and fear of rejection, barely soothed with a series 51 of blatantly direct requests and compliments.
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