Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth. He had now reached what was called the Lower Leads,—a flat, covering a part of the prison contiguous to the gateway, and surrounded on all sides by walls about fourteen feet high. “I have come to tell you this. “So very clear and cold,” she said. Even that he was an interfering person, if he walked through that door this moment, she would fling herself at him and weep all over his chest.
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