‘The poor girl was thrust into a convent to become a nun. “I have had nothing since, and it seems a very long time. I fought. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. Leave me my blanket! I'm very cold at night. ” She pointed with shaking fingers to a great bunch of dark red carnations, thrust carelessly into a deep china bowl, to which the card was still attached. ‘They cannot help it. The day before this examination was appointed to take place—the third of the prisoner's detention—an old man, respectably dressed, requested permission to see him.
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