John turned toward the short staircase as she alit upon the first creaky step. 165 “Uh, my parents are going skiing in Colorado after New Year’s. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. Built and paved with stone, without beds, or any other sort of protection from the cold, this dreadful hole, accounted the most dark and dismal in the prison, was made the receptacle of such miserable wretches as could not pay the customary fees. “Perhaps for myself I do not mind, but this man is sure to find out some day, and he will not like having been deceived.
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