Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her. “So you’re the one my son has been talking about. Unless he has killed someone. Marry, come up! I'm not so easily deluded. "Yes; and I hope you'll take ample vengeance upon him," said Quilt. She had never thought of him at all in that way before. She had not thought anything could equal her despair at that moment.
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