" "Your ladyship——" hesitated Norris. Though it’s very kind of you. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions. I say again, grace à vous. 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. He was a tall man and fair, with bluish eyes that were rather protuberant, and long white hands of which he made a display. I still have a cross stitch she made for me of a little fairy sitting on a daffodil.
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