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“I wonder,” she murmured to herself, “if this is the beginning. He smiled. On a pallet in one corner lay a pale emaciated female. 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. A brief feeling of empathy with Pottiswick passed through him. Jack affected to close the door, but left it slightly ajar. “Sold again,” she remarked.
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