For four hours he had shifted his own troubles to the shoulders of these imaginative characters. Their talk drifted to the beauty of music, and they took that up again at tea-time. “And yet you still live, Butterfly. ” The doors at the other end of the hall opened. "I suspect our friend has thought better of it, and won't come," he remarked. ” Mr. Unlocking several doors, he came to a dark vault, that would have rivalled the gloomiest cell in Newgate, into which he thrust Thames, and fastened the door.
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