Get it off your soul. Why should you who are queens come down from your thrones? If you can afford it, WE can’t. 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. “I wrote it for you. So am I. Far away there was the one woman for this boy of mine—some human being who would understand the dear fool better than all the rest of the world.
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