She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. Sir John, who was standing outside, looked past him at the girl still sitting in the shadow. “Yeah. He was conscious of a quickening of his heartbeat and the familiar rise of adrenalin that sent his senses soaring in anticipation. "I dare not, Rowland," she answered. Not content with this, the assailants set fire to the house in half-a-dozen other places; and the progress of the flames was rapid and destructive.
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