She had never had a pet, never had a real doll. “I want to be your friend,” he said. He had now reached what was called the Lower Leads,—a flat, covering a part of the prison contiguous to the gateway, and surrounded on all sides by walls about fourteen feet high. As the secret door opened, the sounds within the house came at once to her ears: the tramping of feet above, and the hoarse voices echoing through the mansion. She had no intention whatsoever of spending her life in a convent, but that was not his affair.
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