He shut his eyes and groped for the wall to steady himself, wondering if this bit of mummery would get over. Michelle looked at her pathetically. Loved his memory still, for all he knew. 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.
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