“And now,” she said, splintering the surviving piece of coal into indignant flame-spurting fragments with one dexterous blow, “what am I to do? “I’m in a hole!—mess is a better word, expresses it better. ‘Perhaps I could indeed rescue you if only you would confide in me. The floor was strewn with screws, nails, fragments of wood and stone, and across the passage lay the heavy iron fillet. There was granite in her face and agate in her eyes. This man was her husband in the eyes of both God and man. There is the key.
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