Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell. When I examined you for ‘ill humors’ I longed to run my hands over your entire body, to touch your face, to caress you in the places that would give you pleasure. . The prison gates were besieged like the entrance of a booth at a fair; and the Condemned Hold where he was confined, and to which visitors were admitted at the moderate rate of a guinea a-head, had quite the appearance of a showroom. He had found her in a communicative mood, and he used the accumulated skill of years in turning that to account. He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect. Her eardrums were burning with the echoes of those hideous shouts. . Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous.
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