"From that door," continued the thief-taker, pointing to the gloomy portal of the prison opposite which they were standing, "the condemned are taken to Tyburn. Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself. Mr. This salute of his—actually the first she could remember—while it did not disturb her, began to lead her thoughts into new channels of speculation. She was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly. " "I fancied I heard voices," rejoined Sir Rowland. She was now permitted freely to study the face.
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