" "A key!" exclaimed Wood eagerly. She read voraciously, and presently, because of her aunt’s censorship, she took to smuggling any books she thought might be prohibited instead of bringing them home openly, and she went to the theatre whenever she could produce an acceptable friend to accompany her. Above this revolting spot was the female debtor's ward; below it a gloomy cell, called Tangier; and, lower still, the Stone Hold, a most terrible and noisome dungeon, situated underground, and unvisited by a single ray of daylight. ‘Let’s see now. His gray eyes were closed, his persimmon-colored lips open and panting. “I have to go out. Cheveney was another Paris friend, was he?” she asked. Now how in the world was he to get rid of the husband? His luck was in. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. “Yeah. " "Twenty pounds," rejoined Mrs. ‘All this gadding about. White.
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