” “I borrowed it,” said Ann Veronica in a casual tone, with white despair in her heart. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. Darting forward at this sound, Jack threw open the door, and beheld Quilt kneeling over Thames, who'se hands and feet were bound with cords, and about to plunge his sword into his breast.
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