The poor wretch, driven by desperation to the commission of a crime which her soul abhors, is no more beyond the hope of reformation than she is without the pale of mercy. And now, when you come at last, you bring me this grandfather, and you dare to tell me I am like him. ‘The secret passage!’ It did not take long to find the mechanism of the candlesconce that opened the door. I’m the sort of dog, if you turn it out of the room it lies down on the mat at the door.
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