In this cell was a huntsman, who had fractured his skull while hunting, and was perpetually hallooing after the hounds;—in that, the most melancholy of all, the grinning gibbering lunatic, the realization of "moody madness, laughing wild. The little matter of an accent may be misleading, I grant you, but —’ He was interrupted, and with impatience. Everybody, he felt, must be listening behind their papers.
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