She was not allowed to bathe herself: another prisoner, with a privileged manner, washed her. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. How Jack Sheppard's Portrait was painted. She felt the bedsprings coil as he moved from his seated position, entranced. “Had the pleasure of dining with you at the ‘Ambassador’s’ one night, before the show, you know—last September I think it was.
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