"Prisoner at the bar," thus ran the sentence, "you shall be taken to the prison from whence you came, and put into a mean room, stopped from the light; and shall there be laid on the bare ground, without any litter, straw, or other covering, and without any garment. “No,” she answered, reluctantly. Indignation carried her through that night, that men and the world could so entreat her. But what did the occupant of the box care? The laugh was always with the dead: they were out of the muddle.
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