A cool gray light illuminated small portions of the stone floor. " "Arrested!" exclaimed Trenchard, drawing his sword. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. All right, I’m coming. But I do hope, Vee, I do hope—this is the end of these adventures. "Open my heart, Father of Mercy!" she murmured, in a humble tone, and with downcast looks, "and make me sensible of the error of my ways.
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