207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. “DEAREST A—— “I lied to you. We were fellow passengers from Charing Cross, and we have been fellow lodgers in the Rue d’Entrepot. On the right of the postern against the wall was affixed a small grating, sustaining the debtor's box; and any pleasure which the passerby might derive from contemplating the splendid structure above described was damped at beholding the pale faces and squalid figures of the captives across the bars of its strongly-grated windows. She shrugged her shoulders. He spoke in quick nervous sentences. .
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