Amidst it all, however, there were several light-hearted and laughing groups walking from cell to cell to whom all this misery appeared matter of amusement. ‘That is what she wants, is it?’ ‘Do you blame her?’ he said stiffly. For some time he could not stir, but felt sick and exhausted. He trembled, not from any superstitious dread, but from an undefined sense of approaching danger. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey.
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