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. In a few minutes more he had made a breach in the roof wide enough to allow him to pass through. In all her life no living thing had had to depend upon her, not even a dog or a cat. Because she states her case in a tangle, drags it through swamps of nonsense, it doesn’t alter the fact that she is right.
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