Your uncle—our uncle is with him. He got out in much the same way from the Gatehouse,—stole the keys, and passed through a room where I was sitting half-asleep in a chair. Who was he to tread on her dreams? She had heroworshipped an unscrupulous adventurer, who had not hesitated to impose on her youth and her ignorance. He remembered also, all at once, the very first words he had heard her speak: “I was not born to this. "And you have seen … drunken men?" Prudence's tones were full of suppressed horror.
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