\"No, not really. At the open door stood a young man in a rich garb with a mask on his face, who was encouraging the mob by words and gestures. The door was opened, and Austin entered the cell, when he absolutely recoiled before the spectacle he beheld, and could scarcely have looked more alarmed if the prison had tumbled about his ears. She remembered him as a dull figure, a big man with a belly that was already showing fat under his fine scarlet clothes. “Hello? She’s like, your girlfriend, not mine.
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