" Mr. . I thought Mr. " "But why not?" The doctor dallied with his teaspoon. “Was I not strong enough when you flogged me for leaning over the oubliette? Who tells you these things? The physician, Sebastianus? Am I not sovereign enough to judge what is happening to my own body?\" She demanded. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary.
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