Herein was the sum of human knowledge in essence. There were seven tales in all—short stories—a method of expression quite strange to her, after the immense canvases of Dickens and Hugo. Beyond the hatch, an angle, formed by a projection in the wall of some three or four feet, served to hide a door conducting to the interior of the prison. She had begun to care about her appearance again, looking into the glass he gave her, a thing nearly priceless that was bordered in intricate golden filigree and rubies. “It’s magnificent!” He leaned back and regarded her with his head a little on one side.
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