The bed was hard beyond any experience of hers, the bed-clothes coarse and insufficient, the cell at once cold and stuffy. It’s odd how little I know of him, and of how he feels and what he feels. “These are the times that would make me glad to live forever, if only they lasted. ” Inwardly, she laughed at the idea of him trying to beat on her, flailing, his arms akimbo. ‘It is not for myself, you understand,’ pursued the man, in an unctuous tone that sickened the general, ‘but for this poor one. "What has put it into your head that your son yet lives?" he asked.
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