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He had now reached what was called the Lower Leads,—a flat, covering a part of the prison contiguous to the gateway, and surrounded on all sides by walls about fourteen feet high. There was a strip of old rose brocade in the making that set an ache in the girl's heart for the want of it. There was also the daunting task of getting dressed. Spurlock knew that somewhere along the way he would write a story worth while. “Twenty-two. Poor Ben was not so fortunate.
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