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She tried to imagine herself
“getting something,” to project herself as sitting down at a desk and writing, or
as returning after her work to some pleasantly equipped and free and
independent flat. Almost at once she had comprehended that she was expected to
write down her name and address, which she did, in slanting cobwebby lettering,
perhaps a trifle laboriously. Above this revolting spot was the female debtor's
ward; below it a gloomy cell, called Tangier; and, lower still, the Stone Hold, a
most terrible and noisome dungeon, situated underground, and unvisited by a
single ray of daylight. “It is too late for visitors,” she remarked. She was strong, not unlike a pack mule or a camel; she
thought to herself and smirked.
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This video was uploaded to indienet.info on 29-06-2024 01:10:36