A young man —almost a boy, slight, dark, and with his brother’s deep grey eyes—came across the room to her. “He fancied that he did,” she corrected him coolly. "I'm your dupe no longer. "I'm sorry for old Newgate that another jail should have it. And that would spoil it. It had been his fevered imagination that had endued the garment with some extraordinary value. Louis the Fourteenth yet lived, and expectations were, therefore, indulged of assistance from France.
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