She was sorry to find Ramage a little disposed to be melancholy. ’ ‘You would speak of the house?’ ‘Many’s the time little Miss Mary would say her papa meant for her to have it, she having no brothers and sisters at all—when we played together I mean, she and me and Joan Pottiswick. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. ‘Left to yourself, my girl, you may not have any affairs.
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