In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. She forgot her vital hatred of the South Seas; she forgot that McClintock's would not differ a jot from the old island she had for ever left behind her; she forgot all the doctor's lessons and warnings. He then scaled the northern tower, and made his way to the summit of that part of the prison which fronted Giltspur Street.
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