. 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. It was her past now, not Annabel’s. “See you. “No! My father. " "And all the time you loved her?"—appalled. ” “You disappoint me,” she said wearily.
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