” She said. 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. "Your sympathy is being wasted. When the doctor came in—he had just finished his breakfast—O'Higgins rose and presented his card. Put out your hand and bid me God-speed. "Why does she weep?" Ruth wanted to know. "Ay, indeed! And who may that be?" inquired his wife. ‘Go on up to the boy, my dear.
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