Cowering in a corner upon a heap of straw sat his unfortunate mother, the complete wreck of what she had been. 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. “If I didn’t love you better than myself,” said Capes, “I wouldn’t fence like this with you. After you went he got up and took refuge in the preparation-room. “And by what right do you do anything of the sort?” “No right at all,” he admitted. Perhaps she might never come back to that breakfast-room again. What could she do? Reluctantly, at a second curt command, she began to step across the uncarpeted floor, her eyes never leaving the threatening pistol.
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