It was the very spot from which his poor mother had gazed after her vain attempt to rescue him at the Mint; but, though he was ignorant of this, her image was alone present to him. “You’re not a virgin, are you?” It was as much an accusation as a question. ‘Ah. You called yourself a murderess. I don’t care what divides us. Such was the condition of his mind that the danger exhilarated rather than depressed him. ’ ‘Oh, you are, are you?’ said the nun, evidently not mollified, but she was forestalled. Nevertheless, she was no fool, and she knew that they could easily break loose and cause her to fall. “We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other.
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