“What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. He had meant to be master of his fate that evening and it had escaped him altogether. I’ve seen him, and he doesn’t a bit understand. Here Marvel, the executioner, who was in attendance, was commanded by Wild to tie his thumbs together, which he did with whipcord so tightly, that the string cut to the bone.
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