’ ‘Yes,’ agreed Lucilla excitedly, ‘and she has been telling us how much of a friend she was to your mother. 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. “My dad is into this stuff. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. She walked through the walls.
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