“Allow me. Tucked under the writing-table a pair of yellow and gold Turkish slippers of a highly meretricious quality caught her eye. He fancied that the turnkeys had discovered his flight and were in pursuit of him,—that they had climbed up the chimney,—entered the Red Room,— tracked him from door to door, and were now only detained by the gate which he had left unbroken in the chapel. ‘Even the nuns they say I am like a devil.
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