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. Of course I knew all about him years ago, and he is exactly like everybody’s description of him. Wood resounded from below. He had found Spurlock. A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian. Shy, grateful in her loneliness for this unexpected attention, she had listened.
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