In spite of his shrieks, the miserable Jew was then dragged into the wellhole, and the rope being tied round his neck, he was launched from the bridge. Gerald watched her vanish into the darkness, unusually incensed. There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. She read voraciously, and presently, because of her aunt’s censorship, she took to smuggling any books she thought might be prohibited instead of bringing them home openly, and she went to the theatre whenever she could produce an acceptable friend to accompany her.
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