At the present moment she was living in a world of her own creation, a carnival of brave men and fair women, characters out of the tales she had so newly read for the first time. Her husband sat in a chair beside her bed, his head in his hands. In the general survey of the prison, taken in the preceding chapter, but little was said of the Lodge. Well, my friend found us out, and would give no quarter. She didn’t trust Gianfrancesco, you know, she called him a ‘bad husband’. “Have you not missed me?” He inquired. " "Oh. There had been fusses and scenes dimly apprehended through half-open doors. She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world. They were in many respects so right; she clung to that, and shirked more and more the paradoxical conviction that they were also somehow, and even in direct relation to that rightness, absurd. ” “Gwen said she was happy.
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