She refused to sleep in the same room with him one night, kicking him in the shins. He agreed it was disgraceful. With such qualifications as she possessed, two chief channels of employment lay open, and neither attracted her, neither seemed really to offer a conclusive escape from that subjection to mankind against which, in the person of her father, she was rebelling. Some rustic hand had written upon the door "JACK SHEPPARD'S CAGE;" and upon the wall was affixed a large placard describing his person, and offering a reward for his capture. She could not go to him with a preachment against strong drink; she knew from experience that such a plan would be wasted effort. It’s made up of things as small as the diameter of hairs and big as life and death. I loathe this room.
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