"To paint your portrait," answered the jailer. It is what I have wanted, what I have meant all along. But first, we’ve got to secure the convent. Each morning his inquiry was properly answered: the patient was steadily improving, but none could say when he would be strong enough to proceed upon his journey. Was it VERY horrible? I tried to get into the police-court, but the crowd was ever so much too big, push as I would. “Oh, damn!” he said.
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