Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture. "I am very wicked," she said. Eyebrows knitting, she looked towards the ground a few feet away from him, guiltily. Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her. " "Order those who choose to obey you," rejoined the lady scornfully. ” She said, studying his face, which seemed to lose its childishness a little more with each day. .
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