" So saying, he closed the door. I did not lay any traps for her. But let that verse tell my secret. "You are my prisoner, Jack. Then she slowly straightened, releasing him. There were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks. Everywhere else—the law, medicine, the Stock Exchange—prejudice bars us. I just thought perhaps a different boy was in store for you.
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