He was confined in the Middle Stone Ward, a spacious apartment, with good light and air, situated over the gateway on the western side, and allotted to him, not for his own convenience, but for that of the keepers, who, if he had been placed in a gloomier or more incommodious dungeon, would have necessarily had to share it with him. She had time in the afternoons to do crewelwork and embroidery, no longer occupied by the constant spinning of wool. “It’s odd—I have no doubt in my mind that what we are doing is wrong,” he said. Tell me that again.
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