She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. It was the only way to make the monthly bills. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. Hadn’t they settled that already? “I want you as a friend,” he persisted, almost as if he disputed something. Why did the beggar hang on down there, when he could have enjoyed all that civilization had to offer? Yes, he would be mighty glad to see McClintock; and the sooner he came the better. I went to the theatre that night. Vorsack would just have to live with it. It was so hopeless to put it to them.
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