It was long and narrow, a well-lit, wellventilated, quiet gallery of small tables and sinks, pervaded by a thin smell of methylated spirit and of a mitigated and sterilized organic decay. Down that on the right the young culprit was dragged—along that on the left a fainting woman was borne in the arms of several females. She is chosen to learn magic. "Don't scourge me," she cried, trying to hide herself in the farthest corner of the cell.
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