Old Newgate was divided into three separate prisons,—the Master's Side, the Common Side, and the Press Yard. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. The clanking of chains, the grating of locks, and the rumbling of bolts must have been music in Jonathan's ears, so much pains did he take to subject himself to such sounds. I do not wish to seek them out, en effet. ‘He told me everything, if you mean Gerald. “You’re kidding, right?” “Not kidding at all.
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