"Caught!" shouted the head-turnkey. And I passed myself off as Meysey Hill, and since—then—I haven’t had a minute’s peace. Sometimes the moon was totally eclipsed; at others, it shed a wan and ghastly glimmer over the masses rolling in the firmament. I made a wrong choice, it seems—but my voice remains. A tarnish of constraint that had recently spread over her intercourse with Capes vanished again. You had better go to bed.
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