” “But I can’t do that. To a woman she might have confided; but to this man, kindly as he was, it was unthinkable. "At my first being acquainted with the place," says this writer, in the 'Miseries of a Prison,' "the prisoners, methought, walking up and down the Stone Hall, looked like so many wrecks upon the sea. just furtive meetings. She would be elemental; there would be in her somewhere the sleeping tigress. "Don't scourge me," she cried, trying to hide herself in the farthest corner of the cell. Kneebone cordially on the shoulder, and began to laugh as heartily as any of them. Something namelessly abhorrent in the eyes of those men…! She knew what arms were for—to fold and embrace and to hold one tightly; but why men wished to kiss women was still a profound mystery. The same old lines and verses, over and over, until there had come times when shrieking would have relieved her.
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