“It was poison—why not?” she answered. Then her white teeth gleamed, and her excuse for remaining any longer before that little marble table was gone. Attempt to molest me, and I split. It was difficult to get right. It wasn’t. Amidst it all, however, there were several light-hearted and laughing groups walking from cell to cell to whom all this misery appeared matter of amusement. Very few survived her trials. “It’s still a marvel to me that we are to be forgiven,” she said, turning. She followed the landlady half way up-stairs, and called up to Ann Veronica, “May I come up? It’s me! You know—Nettie Miniver!” She appeared before Ann Veronica could clearly recall who Nettie Miniver might be.
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