I've despatched him to the New Prison. Not a scar but has its history. His hair had begun to gray, his belly had just begun to round. The inner apartment was rather gracefully furnished with a thick, fine Turkish carpet, a good brass fender, a fine old bureau, and on the walls were engravings of two young girls’ heads by Greuze, and of some modern picture of boys bathing in a sunlit pool. Courtlaw stood up. "Don't speak ill of him behind his back, father," interposed Thames.
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