Clarice loved babies as much as Lucia did and chattered about them day and night. Selecting a key from the heavy bunch committed to him by Austin, he threw open the door, and beheld Blueskin seated at the back of the small chamber, handcuffed, and with his feet confined in a heavy pair of stocks. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. The entrance was barred against them; and they had the additional mortification of hearing Sheppard's loud laughter at their discomfiture. "So has the butterfly evil thoughts.
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