He thought, too, of the fretful invalid who lay in the next room to his, whose money had created his business and made his position in the world. Mr Jarvis’s sister, that was. Towards night, however, he ventured out, and walked on towards London. The cell in which she was confined was about six feet long and four wide; the walls were scored all over with fantastic designs, snatches of poetry, short sentences and names,—the work of its former occupants, and of its present inmate. She turned towards the door, and had taken a pace towards it when it was flung open.
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