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. ” There was never any shortage of bad men to eat, especially with pestilence and superstition to cover their tracks. I can’t even make myself care. I don’t mean I’m not a good woman—I mean that I’m not a GOOD woman.
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