To Spurlock's observing eye, Enschede's wrinkles multiplied and the folds in his clothes. The prison gates were besieged like the entrance of a booth at a fair; and the Condemned Hold where he was confined, and to which visitors were admitted at the moderate rate of a guinea a-head, had quite the appearance of a showroom. The thought of Capes flooded her being like long-veiled sunlight breaking again through clouds.
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