They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. “Of course it is, Anna. It was an odd little encounter, that left vague and dubitable impressions in her mind. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. 5. "And so I want the boy out of the way," he concluded. The Times slipped from his fingers.
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