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The prison was two stories high, with a flat roof surmounted by a gilt vane fashioned like a key; and, possessing considerable internal accommodation, it had, in its day, lodged some thousands of disorderly personages. “You’ve no right to badger me like this, Veronica,” he said. Abruptly he gripped her wrist. Bête, she told herself fiercely. “Are we cool?” Michelle asked her.
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