He lit a cigarette and loitered about. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window. There was only one prisoner in the ward. ‘It could not be helped, whichever way I made my presence known. “Poor little Miniver! What can she be but what she is?. You are—horrible. Any one less courageous than himself would have abandoned the attempt from a conviction of its utter hopelessness; but, though it might for a moment damp his ardour, it could not deter him.
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