“I—I am sorry—I didn’t explain. " 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. Now, it was a wilderness of weeds. 47 was no more than a sort of railway compartment on the way to that. She meditated profoundly through several enormous cold hours on all that had happened and all that she had done since the swirl of the suffrage movement had submerged her personal affairs.
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