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. It was an unspoken curfew in the Beck house on week nights. “What are your objections?” she said. Anna sat with the face of a Sphinx— waiting. A neat tale, giving little away. ‘Her purpose, if you will believe me, is to get herself a dowry so that she may marry an Englishman.
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