Her sense of humour could not wholly resist his abnormal gravity. "I guessed what was coming. She recovered herself, however, with amazing facility. “Thank you. "A miserly old woman. "And, now,—to Newgate. May I ask the nature of your interest in her?” He hesitated. I meant mischief. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. No matter how many books one read, each was different, as each human being was different.
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