Chapter IX BRENDON’S LUCK Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed. "How do I know you are a friend?" asked Darrell. Mrs. Sebastian dug through the viscous layers of foul-smelling clay with a shovel, each successive insertion creating an obscene sucking noise that ate at her sanity. His legs were dreadfully swelled; his hands bruised; and his fetters occasioned him intolerable pain. She glanced at the soft-ticking clock with the exposed brass pendulum upon the white marble mantel, and made a rapid calculation.
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