Sheppard, passing her hand across her brow; "but my memory is gone—quite gone. The walls were bare, and painted in stone-colour; the floors, devoid of carpet; the beds, of hangings; the windows, of blinds; and, excepting in the thief-taker's own audience-chamber, there was not a chair or a table about the premises; the place of these conveniences being elsewhere supplied by benches, and deal-boards laid across joint-stools. And stony broke. Gosse had hidden himself successfully then. She sings better perhaps. Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years. The winters were bitter here, they could have just as easily been frozen off.
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