’ ‘Of Leonardo? Yes, I will tell you. She was a trained being—trained by an implacable mother to one end. She turned into the study, sat down at the table and fingered the pencils, curiously stirred. Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden. But you must get him into the chair as fast as you can, and hurry off to Newgate. Here, turnkey. I sat within a few feet of him.
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