’ ‘What are you about now, child?’ demanded Martha apprehensively. “I wish you didn’t. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. . ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You should have gone to Charvill. He talked in the same style, and pretty nearly in the same language; laughed in the same manner, and coughed, or sneezed at the same time.
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