He lived on the seventh floor behind a winding set of hallways that towered over her in their grayness. For a stunned moment, Emile did not speak. Casting a hasty glance, as he was about to turn an angle of the wall, at the great gates and upper windows of the prison, and perceiving no symptoms of pursuit, Jack proceeded towards the hovel at a very deliberate pace, carefully assisting his female companion over every obstacle in the road, and bearing her in his arms when, as was more than once the case, she sank from fright and exhaustion. ‘Lord in heaven, could it be so?’ ‘Don’t look at me,’ exploded Hilary.
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