Wood fancied he recognised. Coolly and gingerly, she kissed it as it stood at its hard angle from his body. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. The glance, which he threw at the door, was singularly expressive of his character: it was a mixture of alarm, effrontery, and resolution. Lucilla clearly adored her betrothed, anyone could see that. Yes, there was someone there.
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