She dropped the locket into its sweet hiding place. Prudence reminded him that he was a county magistrate, and parliamentary candidate for a somewhat difficult borough, where his principal supporters were dissenters of strict principles who took a zealous interest in his moral character. She glanced at the Frenchman, and found him struggling with the portrait that was embedded around his scalp. Old and dilapidated, the widow's domicile looked the very picture of desolation and misery. The poor fellow's half smothered. . We felt like thieves.
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