’ Gerald knew the caress in his voice was a trifle ironic. Spurlock had sensed what had gone completely over McClintock's head—that this was the playing of a soul in damnation. Especially when they wear cologne. When any violent outrage was committed,—and such matters were of daily, sometimes hourly, occurrence,—a bell, the rope of which descended into the hall, brought the whole of the turnkeys to their assistance. He walked on for an hour longer, till he could scarcely drag one leg after another.
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