“You’re not a virgin, are you?” It was as much an accusation as a question. ’ ‘A pretty tale. The screams of the unfortunate woman had aroused Thames from his slumbers. The cell in which she was confined was about six feet long and four wide; the walls were scored all over with fantastic designs, snatches of poetry, short sentences and names,—the work of its former occupants, and of its present inmate. The man who sat behind a pigeon-hole, and regulated the comings and goings, was for a moment absent. A common rage flushed their faces. The tall, blond boys, right?” “That’s them.
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