‘I fear you mistake, Emile. “MY DEAR FATHER,” she wrote,—“I have been thinking hard about everything since I was sent to this prison. When he was concentrating, deep shadows formed under his gray eyes. One morning he caught her hand suddenly and kissed it. She began rubbing it with her pocket-handkerchief. She went about, intentlooking and self-possessed, trim and fine, concealing her emotions whatever they were, as the realities of her position opened out before her.
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