Bring in his comrade," he added, in a whisper to Charcam; "I'll take care of him. "To paint your portrait," answered the jailer. C. You’ll end there one day, mark my words. He has no imagination, no real generosity. Quite!” He sat in the arm-chair and took tea, and consumed several of the extra cakes which she had sent out for and talked to her and expressed himself, looking very earnestly at her with his deep-set eyes, and carefully avoiding any crumbs on his mustache the while. So you are Prudence Remenham.
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