C. She drifted, via Theobald’s Road, obliquely toward the region about Titchfield Street. That it provided proof of the girl’s identity was one thing. In this cell was a huntsman, who had fractured his skull while hunting, and was perpetually hallooing after the hounds;—in that, the most melancholy of all, the grinning gibbering lunatic, the realization of "moody madness, laughing wild. I thought I'd been sufficiently explicit," continued Jonathan.
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