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 munched a roll and butter with hearty appetite. He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love. “You see, father,” she said, “it isn’t only this affair of the dance.
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