Then his beard was of a reddish hue, and his complexion warm and sanguine. The prison gates were besieged like the entrance of a booth at a fair; and the Condemned Hold where he was confined, and to which visitors were admitted at the moderate rate of a guinea a-head, had quite the appearance of a showroom. She ran her gaze over him, and allowed her eyelashes to flutter down. ‘Lord,’ he uttered, glancing about with a disparaging eye. Ennison had disappeared. She felt sleepy and unusually irritable. Below was an uninspiring street, a thoroughfare of boarding-houses and apartments. His slightest move caused her infinite pleasure.
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