A kind but hard looking female officer named Rose took her into a room and sat her down at a small wooden table. "He must be somewhere hereabouts," cried one of the horsemen, dismounting. She entered quietly and padded up to her shared bedroom. As the time when his identity had to be proved approached, this rigour was, in a trifling degree, relaxed, and a few persons were occasionally admitted to the ward, but only in the presence of Austin. He was full of fabulous stories, not just tales of his own past in Rome but wonderful fables from the mysterious Orient and the ancient Greeks, old jokes and yarns that only he remembered.
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