"To paint your portrait," answered the jailer. He stood a little anxious and fussy, bothered by the responsibility of her, entirely careless of what her life was or was likely to be, ignoring her thoughts and feelings, ignorant of every fact of importance in her life, explaining everything he could not understand in her as nonsense and perversity, concerned only with a terror of bothers and undesirable situations. I know now what it is to be an abandoned female. The plank hung over his head. “He would never have found you out if you had not personated me.
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