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In Mr. Tulkinghorn’s Chambers

           Itisalargekey,butthekeysofprisonsarelarger.Inthiscitytherearehousesofcorrection(wherethetreadmillsare,forwomen),thegatesofwhichareverystrongandheavy,andnodoubtthekeystoo.Iamafraidaladyofyourspiritandactivitywouldfinditaninconveniencetohaveoneofthosekeysturneduponherforanylengthoftime.Whatdoyouthink?""Ithink,"mademoisellereplieswithoutanyactionandinaclear,obligingvoice,"thatyouareamiserablewretch.""Probably,"returnsMr.Tulkinghorn,quietlyblowinghisnose."ButIdon’taskwhatyouthinkofmyself;Iaskwhatyouthinkoftheprison.""Nothing.Whatdoesitmattertome?""Why,itmattersthismuch,mistress,"saysthelawyer,deliberatelyputtingawayhishandkerchiefandadjustinghisfrill;"thelawissodespoticherethatitinterferestopreventanyofourgoodEnglishcitizensfrombeingtroubled,evenbyalady’svisitsagainsthisdesire.Andonhiscomplainingthatheissotroubled,ittakesholdofthetroublesomeladyandshutsherupinprisonunderharddiscipline.Turnsthekeyuponher,mistress."Illustratingwiththecellar-key."Truly?"returnsmademoiselleinthesamepleasantvoice."Thatisdroll!Butmyfaith!stillwhatdoesitmattertome?""Myfairfriend,"saysMr.Tulkinghorn,"makeanothervisithere,oratMr.Snagsby’s,andyoushalllearn.""Inthatcaseyouwillsendmetotheprison,perhaps?""Perhaps.

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Roboto Lora
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