It was a hoax, it was the only thing possible, until she heard Cathy say, “Let me hold those for you. ” Ennison laughed softly. Soon, they fattened up, their cheeks rosy and their hair shining. 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.
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