‘She? Sa femme? That is the game then? That she could dare to take my place, that salope. Gosse were you born, and Gosse will you remain to your death. Because for the punishments je m’en moque. . But she made no answer. He chuckled. At the threshold of the study he bade her good-night; but he did not touch her forehead with his lips. The windows were grated, the doors barred; each room had the name as well as the appearance of a cell; and the very porter who stood at the gate, habited like a jailer, with his huge bunch of keys at his girdle, his forbidding countenance and surly demeanour seemed to be borrowed from Newgate. A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape.
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