" "Well, well, I'm not within a minute," rejoined the turnkey. But his astonishment would have been great indeed had he known that not even her father had ever caressed her, either with lips or with hands. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. Her answer was not quite ready. I bring you tidings of an old friend. They might applaud, or object, or interfere, but the drama was her very own.
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