He righted a chair and sat in it, his face in his hands. It was dry, as if she had powdered it. ‘When one is penniless, one does not expect a life of ease. ’ He slid slowly down and collapsed to the stone floor, fainting dead away. Down on your marrow-bones, sirrah! Confess your guilt, and Sir Rowland may yet save you from the gallows. You have never known what it is to want food, raiment, shelter.
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