His treatment of his wife is most unsatisfactory. 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. Out of an old family album: here was the very comparison that had eluded him. “Would you stand it? I’m going to clear out. The girl’s eyes never left his face. If you owe your confinement to me, you shall owe your liberation to me, also.
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