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. "Is your master at home?" inquired the jailer. " CHAPTER XXV. " "I shall go mad myself if I listen to her longer," said Jack, attempting to rise. The future was not so black. She longed to own something lasting, anything, but knew her wishes to be stupid. Perhaps that sealed letter was a form of confession, and thus relieved him on that score. She is curiously altered in many ways.
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