” He stroked her hand gently. Under the plumed hat, her eye kindled. “Please go and see that—nothing happens,” she pleaded. It was the gallows. 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. ‘Precisely,’ agreed Gerald.
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