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. She saw his purpose and his doubt hesitated also, and then went to him, took his coat lapels, and kissed him on the cheek. I’ve got imagination. "Affairs are not normal in Canton at present. H’m. I suppose that’s the gist of the whole thing. A woman isn’t much freer—in reality.
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