” “Of course,” said Capes, and threw a newly lit cigar into the fire through sheer nervousness. ‘Sit down, won’t you?’ He crossed back to Roding and said low-voiced. 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. “I cannot pretend that I am glad to see you, Lady Ferringhall,” he said quietly.
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