She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear. Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years. "You are my prisoner. " "Let me touch you, then; let me feel if you are really flesh and blood," cried the poor maniac, creeping towards him on all fours. She could have dined alone in her room; but courage had demanded that she face the ordeal and have done with it. Moreoever, it had cost her a whipping and several days’ imprisonment in her cell on bread and water. Then Ramage appeared with effusion, and ushered her into his inner apartment. “I can’t help saying it,” she said, with the quality of her voice altering, “but I do NOT think it is right for an unprotected girl to be in London alone as you are. I saw someone in there whom I have always hoped that I should never meet again.
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