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” 243 She felt a mixture of embarrassment, humiliation, and pride well up in her cheeks, flushing them. "That's an incorrigible rascal," he added, as Sheppard closed the door; "it's only to-day that I discovered—" "What?" asked Jackson, pricking up his ears. I should have gone mad without it. The first of these, the Press Room, a dark close chamber, near Waterman's Hall, obtained its name from an immense wooden machine kept in it, with which such prisoners as refused to plead to their indictments were pressed to death—a species of inquisitorial torture not discontinued until so lately as the early part of the reign of George the Third, when it was abolished by an express statute. Her aunt went out of the room with dignity and a rustle, and up-stairs to the fastness of her own room. The same teardrop bust, the same long waist, the same thick legs. "I am very wicked," she said.
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