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. “Oh, yes,” the stranger remarked good-humouredly. The Jacobite daws want a scarecrow. Not like my father. Ruth broke the exquisite pose by summoning Ah Cum, who was lured into a lecture upon the water-clock.
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