“Well,” she said, “good-night, father. We want to celebrate, and we want you to help us. He righted a chair and sat in it, his face in his hands. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. And there was that dress of hers! She must be warned that she had been imposed upon. The first of these, the Press Room, a dark close chamber, near Waterman's Hall, obtained its name from an immense wooden machine kept in it, with which such prisoners as refused to plead to their indictments were pressed to death—a species of inquisitorial torture not discontinued until so lately as the early part of the reign of George the Third, when it was abolished by an express statute. "I feel guilty, going away and leaving that ignorant child; but our days have been so planned that we dare not change the schedule.
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