"It's better," observed Sheppard, meaningly. The bleach had ruined it, with yellow-orange streaks invading the frizzy white that cascaded in wavy tendrils coated with greasy hairspray. ’ A sudden frown sprang to the fellow’s face. Groping their way through one or two dark and mouldy-smelling vaults, the party ascended a flight of steps, which brought them to the hall. In the general survey of the prison, taken in the preceding chapter, but little was said of the Lodge. The lines about his mouth gradually softened. The Supper at Mr.
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