The colour slowly left her cheeks, the lines of her mouth hardened. “Non. The prison gates were besieged like the entrance of a booth at a fair; and the Condemned Hold where he was confined, and to which visitors were admitted at the moderate rate of a guinea a-head, had quite the appearance of a showroom. An uncomfortable silence followed. Mr. ‘Might have forgiven him,’ he muttered under his breath, ‘if he hadn’t taken the babe. He'll mend, I hope.
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