I arrived here with something less than five pounds in my pocket. At length, about three o'clock, as the first glimmer of dawn became visible through the barred casements of the round-house, the rattling of bolts and chains at the outer door told that some one was admitted. ‘Forgive my not rising to greet you,’ she said, holding out a claw-like hand. It’s odd, but nothing but cliche seems to meet this case. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed.
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