‘For God’s sake, let go my hand,’ he begged. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. What was his problem, she thought to herself. "You are free," said he, "that grating forms a ladder, by which you may descend in safety. ‘Scream and you are dead,’ he snapped, and released her mouth so that he might open the door. When the twins had first come to live in the 208 house, they were thin and bony, their tiny mouths crying for food.
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