We were only—les autres. No prisoner except Edgeworth Bess was placed in the same cell with him. “Not much,” he answered, “and yet about all there is to be known, I fancy. So this was what it was all about. I know nothing about the matter, but I feel convinced that you are right. I didn’t allow myself to see things as they were in those days; now I do. The house was redolent with the smells of cinnamon baking and the stuffed turkey and marinated pork roast.
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