CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH THOUGHTS IN PRISON Part 1 The first night in prison she found it impossible to sleep. ’ ‘Don’t talk soft,’ begged Martha. “Look here, father,” she said, with a change in her voice, “suppose I won’t stand it?” He regarded her as though this was a new idea. “You have been very kind to me,” she said. A long chest under one of the windows was open, some of its contents dragged out and spilling onto the floor. The reddish-haired young man contributed allusions to the Hegelian philosophy that momentarily confused the discussion. “Shut up, you little faggot. ‘Do you think I do not know? What am I doing here, do you think?’ ‘That’s just exactly what I’ve been asking myself,’ he returned. In the bad light he looked at once military and sentimental and studious, like one of Ouida’s guardsmen revised by Mr. ‘When I thought to make them sympathique for me, with a little tear, you understand, and some tricks feminine of this kind—’ ‘Feminine tricks, too?’ cut in Gerald admiringly, controlling a quivering lip.
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