This done, he unloosed the pulley, and the ponderous machine, which resembled a trough, slowly descended upon the prisoner's breast. "What's that?—Jack's voice!" "It is," replied her son. For awhile he watched the revolving light on Copeley's. "Still," went on the manager, "they are slaves in a sense; they are bought and sold until their original indebtedness is paid. I am sure it will be good, John, and I could eat anything.
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