Particles of bullet were embedded in Rhea’s large arm as she swung across the stones in her donated legs. ‘I never met a rat what wandered about the place with a lantern, I didn’t,’ grumbled the old lodgekeeper aggrievedly. It was scarcely likely that she would have accepted his aid. He had the air of a man who has said too much. The bed was hard beyond any experience of hers, the bed-clothes coarse and insufficient, the cell at once cold and stuffy. Lord, what a state I was in! Night after night I sat there, I watched her come in, I watched her go.
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