His breakfast despatched, which he ate with a wolfish appetite, he walked over to Newgate, chuckling as he went at the consternation which his appearance would create amongst the turnkeys. CHAPTER XIX. He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. Five minutes ago, his butler had entered the green saloon, an austere apartment, with dark forest-green wallpaper flocked with a swirling design, and heavy mahogany furniture. Certainly not a gentlewoman. Why would militia be infesting the place? And he must by now be aware of my interest. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United States.
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