The cell in which she was confined was about six feet long and four wide; the walls were scored all over with fantastic designs, snatches of poetry, short sentences and names,—the work of its former occupants, and of its present inmate. ‘And you mean this? Truly?’ ‘Entirely. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. She longed to enjoy human food as he did. " Her utterance was here choked by sobs. Detention was merry for the other detainees. As a matter of fact Mr. You must live for me. It is your own choice, isn’t it?” She nodded. But I'm not worrying about that.
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