He was a just man, and he did not care to start any thunder which was not based upon fairness. Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. But it sounds too real to be imagined. ’ He only laughed.
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