‘You cannot read my mind at all, monsieur. She glanced at him. Mind, when we were all growed up, it were different. She was clear there were no other minds like them in all the world. Guiltily, she felt very little for him, and yet she wondered what he would be like. Stanley, whose family had been by any reckoning inconsiderable—to use the kindliest term. " So saying, he descended a short spiral staircase, and, entering a long stone gallery, from which several other passages branched, took one of them, and after various turnings—for he was familiar with all the intricacies of the prison— arrived at the cell of which he was in search.
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