"You are my prisoner. And a ballot-box—” Her face assumed an expression of intellectual conflict. Forster, the rebel general's escape, but acquitted, reaped a golden harvest during the occupation of his premises by the Preston rebels, when a larger sum was obtained for a single chamber than (in the words of a sufferer on the occasion) "would have paid the rent of the best house in Saint James's Square or Piccadilly for several years. Anything in the least irregular is like poison to him.
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