“Here’s something rather good,” he said, and with a start and an effort she took his place at the microscope, while he stood beside her and almost leaning over her. “No, I’d like to. Her head ached with a hollow pain. 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. The expression, however, which would chiefly have interested a beholder, was that of settled and profound melancholy.
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