Byby. The bed was hard beyond any experience of hers, the bed-clothes coarse and insufficient, the cell at once cold and stuffy. And all the old—the old trick of shrinking up like a snail at a touch. She was to fall back amongst the ruck, a young woman of talent, content perhaps to earn a scanty living by painting Christmas cards, or teaching at a kindergarten. They struck her as cold and indifferent. In the next place, she really had some pretensions to beauty. "Two hundred pounds!" exclaimed Ireton, "besides the governor's offer—that's three hundred.
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