” The redness in his face betrayed him. Her husband finally relented. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. It is a cheering reflection, that in the present prison, with its clean, wellwhitewashed, and well-ventilated wards, its airy courts, its infirmary, its improved regulations, and its humane and intelligent officers, many of the miseries of the old jail are removed. Also she had tried him as a dragoman and as a gendarme, which seemed the most suitable of all to his severely handsome, immobile profile. Aroused by the sound of the church bells, he resolved, at whatever risk, to attend Divine service. But the relief from the strain of her immediate necessities was immense. You know—if you want freedom. Me—I’m nothing but a country wench, and one who went to the bad. I have nothing, nothing that can possibly be passion for you.
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