With some difficulty he contrived to raise her to the window, and with still greater difficulty to squeeze her through it—her bulk being much greater than his own. He now understood her interest in Taber, as he called himself: habit, a twice-told tale. Oddly, he was seldom angry with her as Gianfrancesco would have been. What's-your-name?" "Shotbolt, Sir," replied the jailer. Ennison started and looked anxiously at Anna. Then she cursed herself for his eyes went to the letter and came back to her face. Before leaving the place he looked upwards, and could just discern the blue vault and pale stars of Heaven through an iron grating at the top.
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