“Julian, I don’t know how to put this. A crumpled-up newspaper thrown from the gallery hit her upon the cheek. The chair, meanwhile, with its unhappy load, was transported at a brisk pace to Newgate. I should never have noticed the miniature at all, if it hadn't been for him. The easel and palette having been packed up, and the canvass carefully removed by Austin, the party took leave of the prisoner, who was so much abstracted that he scarcely noticed their departure. She was lovely, painted like the porcelain doll he had always wanted her to be. She had a vision of policemen, reproving magistrates, a crowded court, public disgrace.
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