And yet the secondary emotion was one of suspicion. Conscience drove him to this side of the world, to this bed. Over an old crazy bedstead was thrown a squalid, patchwork counterpane; and upon the counterpane lay a black hood and scarf, a pair of bodice of the cumbrous form in vogue at the beginning of the last century, and some other articles of female attire. “I mean to go to prison directly the session is over,” said Miss Klegg. She had thought it a mirror, because it was her.
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