"To paint your portrait," answered the jailer. About many of these houses hung a mysterious taint as of something weakly and commonly and dustily evil; the women who negotiated the rooms looked out through a friendly manner as though it was a mask, with hard, defiant eyes. Then he would turn his face to her, and she would have to think of herself in his eyes. The great door of the Stone Hall was thrown open, and the sheriffs, preceded by the javelin-men, entered the room.
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