She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. That is an evil place!” She cried. “To the best of my belief, I have not a single English acquaintance in the city. ‘Ask him. Plote was sleeping or deaf. So the talk went on. Every movable mirror had been placed here, to discourage vanity, and since no whitewash covered the brocaded purple wallpaper, its pervasive hue gave an added sense of heaviness to the crowded chamber.
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