"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. "Something's wrong. Next instant he had her immobilised, her hands behind her back, her chest crushed to his, the white veil slipping once again. Believe me, the bitterness of it has almost departed, crushed out of me together with much of the weariness and sorrow I brought with me here by the nameless glory of these lonely months. Papa has sent me to be religieuse.
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