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. After all, the Wastrel was in luck: he was alone. “He is one of our guests—perhaps I should say boarders here, but he seldom returns before dinner-time. I could never have talked to you like this, forgetting everything that parts us, forgetting even your age, if I did not love you utterly. She did not think Ann Veronica would do as her companion.
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