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“So Brendon and I,” he said, “have been troubled with the same fears. ” “But what did father imagine?” “Of course he imagined! Any one would! ‘What has happened, Peter?’ I asked. Regardless of the risk he incurred from some heavy stone dropping on his head or feet,—regardless also of the noise made by the falling rubbish, and of the imminent danger which he consequently ran of being interrupted by some of the jailers, should the sound reach their ears, he continued to pull down large masses of the wall, which he flung upon the floor of the cell. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. On the mantelpiece in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel’s handwriting. You see, I’m separated from my wife. It was as if her aesthetic sense had become inflamed. She addressed him in a tone of puzzlement.
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