"I could not make him understand. . "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son. He greeted the corpulent boy at the register, whose tag read, \"MY NAME IS Jason\" with familiarity. Jonathan threw open the street-door. Beyond the hatch, an angle, formed by a projection in the wall of some three or four feet, served to hide a door conducting to the interior of the prison.
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