“Called myself Anna,” the girl repeated coolly. She addressed her letters, meditated on them for a time, and then took them out and posted them. She wanted him so badly it hurt. Don’t you think? Tum, tay, tum, tay. “There is some mystery about you both,” he exclaimed, with sudden earnestness. He had now reached what was called the Lower Leads,—a flat, covering a part of the prison contiguous to the gateway, and surrounded on all sides by walls about fourteen feet high.
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